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THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  DATE 
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OCT  ^  4  1979 
SEP  2  ^  1993 


30M-10/72 


FOREST    FANCIES 


THE   SURPLICE   OF   SPRING 


FOREST   FANCIES 


BY 
LUCY  CHARLTON  KELLERHOUSE 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  AND  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
LUCY  C.   KELLERHOUSE 


LOROL: 

I  inscribe  to  you 
these  little  stories 
told  me  by  the  trees. 


a 


^If  one  wishes  to  study  the 
life — not  the  mere  structure — of 
an  apple-tree  in  bloom,  he  must 
surrender  himself  at  the  start  to 
the  bloom  and  fragrance;  for 
these  are  not  mere  external 
phases  of  the  growth  of  the 
tree — ^they  are  most  delicate  and 
characteristic  disclosures  of  its 
life." 

Hamilton  Wright  Mabie. 


BEFORE  WE  ENTER  THE  FOREST 

Come,  let  us  enter  the  Forest,  leaving  the 
world  behind.  Here  the  trees  will  tell  us  of 
themselves  and  their  work — ^what  they  do  for 
you  and  for  me.  The  Forest  speaks  to  all  who 
will  listen,  though  every  one  translates  its  mes- 
sage in  a  different  way.  Four  men  once  en- 
tered the  forest:  a  scientist,  a  pastor,  a 
teacher,  and  a  poet.  The  scientist  brought 
away  a  treatise ;  the  pastor,  a  text ;  the  teacher, 
a  lesson;  and  the  poet,  a  song.  I,  too,  found 
my  way  into  the  Forest ;  and  all  that  I  heard 
there  I  put  into  words,  which  took  the  form  of 
a  story. 

One  day  I  showed  my  story  to  a  forester, 
who  loves  the  wildwoods  of  our  land ;  and  he 
paused  in  his  busy  work  to  read  what  the  trees 
had  told  to  me.  As  these  stories  are  not  really 
mine,  but  only  my  interpretation  of  what  the 


BEFORE  WE  ENTER  THE  FOREST 

Forest  will  reveal  to  everj^  listener^  I  will  re- 
peat what  that  forester  said: 

*^I  have  just  finished  reading  your  admir- 
able articles.  Will  you  let  me  say  I  have  read 
them  with  the  keenest  pleasure.  Their  dainti- 
ness, kindliness,  originality,  and  charming 
fancy  have  made  me  enjoy  them  very  much  in- 
deed. I  sincerely  hope  they  may  be  published 
and  widely  circulated,  for  they  are  far  too  good 
to  be  suppressed.  They  will  be  read  with  profit 
and  delight. 

GiFFORD  PlNCHOT.''^ 

And  now,  to  the  Forest  Service  for  its  pic- 
tures of  the  woods,  and  to  all  who  have  helped 
show  me  the  way,  let  me  gladly  offer  thanks, 
before  we  enter  the  Forest, 


FOREST  STORIES 

PAGE 

QUERCUS ^ 

The  Sugar  Mook 25 

A  Sylvan  Easter ^^ 

The  Lindek-Tree  of  Jonsboda 75 

Forest  Leaves ^^ 

The  Merry  Greenwood 117 

The  Fruit  of  the  Christmas  Tree 143 


FOREST   PICTURES 
The  Sueplice  of  Spring Frontispiece 

Facing 
Page 

QuERcus  Offered  Himself  Up  to  the  Teeth 

OF  THE  Saw 10 

And  So  He  Went  from  Tree  to  Tree 26 

The  Scattered  Maples  on  the  Hillside 30 

Uncle  Isaac,  Long  and  Lean,  Came  to  Help 

IN  THE  Sugar  Bush 40 

Little  Bells  with  Euby  Clappers 54 

The  White  Poplar  Was  Already  Awake.  .  58 

The  Cottonwood 60 

The  Boxelder  Was  Green 62 

Easter  Chimes 66 

The  White  Birch  and  the  Beech  Tree  ...  68 

The  Pomp  and  Glory  of  Spring 72 

The  Sweetness  of  Its  Summer  Bloom 82 

Far  Beyond  the  Valley 98 

**Come,  Eest  Under  My  Branches" 102 

Drivers  Guided  Them  into  the  Current.  .  108 

In  a  Quiet  Harbor 110 

Once  Upon  a  Time  There  Was  a  Forest 118 

The  Conquest  of  the  Forest 122 

The  Eoots  that  Bound  the  Earth,  the 
Boughs  that  Shaded  the  Moist  Earth, 

Were  Gone 126 

*'FuLL  TO  THE  Brim  Our  Eivers  Flowed".  .  130 
He  Meted  Out  Land  for  Farm  and  for 

Forest 136 

A  Little  Balsam-Fir  Tree  Grew  in  a  Forest  144 

Christmas  in  the  Woods 156 


QUERCUS 


QUERCUS 

Our  virtue  should  not  be  a  deed,  or  a  work,  but 
a  growth — a  growth  like  a  tree's,  always  rising 
higher  from  its  own  inward  strength  and  sap. 
— Pliillips  Brooks. 

:ERE  are  some  lazy  acorns!'' 
shouted  the  wind,  slapping  an 
old  oak  so  briskly  that  Quer- 
cus  let  go  the  bough  and  fell 
to  earth. 

This  was  his  first  contact  with  the  world. 
There  he  sat  on  the  moss,  like  the  cat  on  the 
mat  in  the  primer;  yet  he  did  not  long  for 
greater  prominence,  for  to  be  obscure  is  to  be 
secure. 

''Ah!"  cried  he,  as  something  light  and 

winged  whirled  by, ' '  airy  fairy,  who  are  you  ? ' ' 

''I  am  little  Pinus,"  answered  the  winged 

3 


4  FOREST  FANCIES 

one,  sinking  to  rest.  '^Dear  me,  I'm  all  out  of 
breath,  for  IVe  waltzed  across  the  valley!'' 

**A  long  way  from  home  for  one  so  yoimg," 
observed  Quercus,  cuddling  down  among  the 
falling  leaves.  '^Nothing  doing,  so  I  may  as 
well  go  to  sleep.  Be  sure  to  wake  me  when 
spring  comes."  And  before  he  knew  it,  he 
was  sleeping  as  soundly  as  Rip  Van  Winkle. 

When  Quercus  awoke,  he  looked  at  himself 
in  surprise,  and  just  like  Mr.  Van  Winkle 
when  he  discovered  his  long  white  beard, 
asked: 

'^What'sthisonme?" 

It  had  broken  right  through  his  smooth  coat 
— a  tiny  root.  Quercus  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  about,  laughing  so  hard  that  he  split 
his  sides  more  and  more ;  until  his  ragged  coat 
fell  off  and  he  stood  like  the  little  prince  in 
the  fairy  tale,  straight  and  proud,  with  a  green 
cap  on  his  head  and  a  feather  that  grew 
longer. 

The  little  root  busily  burrowed  through  the 
leafy  mold;  yet  until  he  had  a  good  firm  grip 
of  the  earth  beneath,   Quercus  feared  lest 


QUEECUS  5 

weakness  overtake  him  and  he  die,  like  many 
of  the  tiny  seedlings  near,  striving  to  be  trees ; 
but  at  last  he  got  a  firm  grasp  of  the  situa- 
tion. 

Then  Quercus  stretched  with  all  his  might, 
like  a  lazy,  growing  boy — stretched  himself 
higher,  and  put  on  new  raiment  in  keeping 
with  his  larger  size.  When  he  got  tired  of 
standing  on  one  root,  which  was  his  taproot, 
he  sent  out  root  branches  underground,  and 
one  day  ran  across  someone  in  the  dark. 

^^Helloa,"  he  called,  ^^who's  there?" 

''A  pine  tree,"  was  the  answer. 

**Dear  me,  if  it  isn't  little  Pinus!"  ex- 
claimed Quercus.  ^^So  you,  too,  have  gained 
ground.    But  this  belongs  to  me." 

*^A11  I  ask  is  standing  room,"  Pinus  re- 
plied. 

*'And  if  I  can  get  a  bare  subsistence  from 
the  soil,"  said  Quercus,  ^^I  shall  be  satisfied." 

Quercus  won  his  living  not  only  from  the 
soil,  but  from  the  air  as  well.  His  root-tips 
were  covered  with  hairs,  and  at  the  end  of 
each  hair  was  a  thirsty  little  mouth,  drinking 


6  FOREST  FANCIES 

water  flavored  with  various  nutritious  brands 
of  minerals.  Every  leaf  above  was  a  green 
tongue  calling  to  the  roots  below  for  water; 
and  up  it  came,  through  the  tiny  cells;  and 
when  the  leaves  and  green  bark  received  it, 
they  made  a  new  mixture,  like  the  busy  little 
chemists  that  they  were.  The  method  that  they 
followed  had  been  handed  down  from  genera- 
tion to  generation;  so  you  see  that  the  mixture 
must  be  good — good  for  oak  and  ivy,  with  a 
slight  variation  in  the  ingredients.  Old  trees 
never  fail  to  recommend  it  to  little  trees ;  they 
say,  *^Look  at  me,  see  the  benefit  I  have  de- 
rived therefrom.  I  am  a  living  advertisement 
of  its  nutritive  qualities,''  adding  that  it  is 
pleasant  to  the  taste. 

But  here  is  the  method  itself :  Out  of  the  air 
is  filtered  the  same  kind  of  gas  that  makes  bub- 
bles in  your  soda-water.  This  gas  the  busy 
chemists  split  up,  returning  some  of  the  oxy- 
gen to  the  air,  but  keeping  all  the  carbon,  or 
the  part  of  wood  which  makes  charcoal.  Then 
they  split  up  the  water  that  the  roots  send  up 
to  them,  and  mix  in  the  carbon  to  make  some- 


QUERCUS  7 

thing  else  called  starch,  which,  with  the  earth- 
food  brought  up  from  the  soil,  forms  their 
staple  article  of  diet. 

Quercus  followed  the  good  old  method,  and 
when  he  had  nicely  compounded  the  mixture 
in  his  leaves,  the  sap  carried  it  to  every  grow- 
ing part,  somewhat  as  hod-carriers  take  the 
brick  and  mortar  to  the  proper  parts  of  a 
growing  building,  and  what  was  not  needed 
at  once  was  stored  away  for  future  use.  So 
Quercus  grew  taller  and  stronger  every  day, 
summer  after  summer,  for  the  chemists  work 
only  when  they  have  light  and  warmth,  and 
night  and  winter  are  times  of  idleness.  When 
autumn  came,  his  leaves  ceased  to  be  thirsty, 
and  the  cell  ducts,  like  a  soda  fountain, 
awaited  spring  business.  Then  would  come  a 
brisk  demand  on  the  roots  for  water,  and  the 
new  leaves  and  green  bark  would  get  busy. 

Other  young  trees  were  eating  and  drink- 
ing and  stretching  and  growing.  It  is  said  that 
one-half  the  world  does  not  know  how  the  other 
half  lives,  and  little  the  proud,  uplifted 
branches  knew  of  the  struggle  going  on  under- 


8  FOREST  FANCIES 

ground.  The  branches  soared  while  the  roots 
delved  and  pushed  against  one  another,  like 
children  kicking  each  other  under  the  table, 
and  every  year  some  trees  lost  courage  and 
foothold  and  gave  up  the  fight,  for  to  the 
strongest  was  the  victory. 

Still,  the  branches  had  their  own  troubles. 
Smarter  trees  overshadowed  slower  ones,  and 
sometimes  it  was  too  dark  in  the  forest  for 
little  trees  to  see  their  way  up,  and  they,  too, 
stumbled  and  fell  in  the  struggle.  Even  Quer- 
cus  could  not  well  see  how  to  mix  his  food,  and 
grew  weak  in  the  heavy  shade.  Must  he  also 
give  up  at  last,  as  he  had  seen  so  many  do — 
never  rise  and  interlace  his  branches  in  the 
canopy  of  crowns  far  above,  and  receive  the 
blessing  of  the  sunlight  on  his  head?  Must 
he  wither  and  die  and  fall,  leaving  no  record 
of  strength  and  courage  and  achievement  ?  He 
tried  to  take  his  food  and  grow,  faltered,  saw 
his  fate  before  him — to  enrich  the  mold  for 
those  stronger  in  the  struggle.  It  was  this, 
or  a  century  of  life — ^perhaps  centuries  of 
kingly  power. 


QUERCUS  9 

A  storm  swept  over  the  forest,  and  veterans 
brought  destruction  in  their  fall.  Yet  out  of 
calamity  came  blessing.  Quercus  bowed  his 
head,  but  lifted  it  to  light  and  victory. 

The  sun  looked  through  the  broken  clouds 
and  broken  ranks  of  trees,  upon  Quercus  and 
Pinus,  and  asked  what  were  they  thinking 
about?  Why  weren't  they  busy?  They 
blinked  in  the  flood  of  light,  hesitated,  saw  lit- 
tle strangers  at  their  feet  surrender  and  fall 
before  the  sudden  onslaught  of  day;  then  they 
took  heart  and  began  anew. 

Oh,  how  Quercus  stretched  himself!  There 
was  that  glorious  open  space  above,  and  he  far 
below,  like  one  in  the  depth  of  a  valley. 
Athwart  this  valley  was  sapphire  sky,  atilt 
for  the  golden  draught  of  sunlight  to  pour  in. 
But  what  was  outside  this  valley,  beyond  the 
crowns  of  the  veterans?  Quercus  longed  to 
know.  He  tried  to  stand  on  tiptoe;  he 
stretched  his  neck,  yet  could  not  see.  Others 
were  trying  to  see,  trying  to  reach  that  space 
of  blue.  He  strove  to  get  there  first,  for  the 
laggards  would  miss  the  prize  of  sunlight  on 


10  FOREST  FANCIES 

their  heads.  Some  did  not  care — were  con- 
tent with  the  shadow,  but  Quercus  was  proud 
and  would  not  brook  the  shade. 

Sometimes  he  bent  before  the  wind,  some- 
times he  bowed  beneath  the  snow,  yet  steadily 
Quercus  grew.  He  had  roots  firm  in  the 
ground,  a  fine,  straight  stem,  and  a  crown  of 
leafy  branches.  He  dressed  like  the  other 
young  oaks  in  the  forest.  If  he  wore  branches 
lower  than  forest  fashion  demanded,  they  were 
overshadowed  and  withered  away.  The  fash- 
ion of  the  open  country  was  to  wear  branches 
low,  but  Quercus  was  a  social  tree  and  must 
follow  the  fashion  of  the  forest ;  so,  not  liking 
ridicule,  he  kept  his  stem  as  smooth  and  trim 
as  he  could  and  tried  not  to  adopt  the  ways  of 
country  trees  that  grow  in  the  open. 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  this  youthful  vanity, 
Quercus  had  a  good,  sound  heart,  though  he 
was  a  little  sappy. 

The  heartwood  of  Quercus  stood  in  the  rela- 
tion of  a  skeleton  to  him.  It  was  hard  and 
strong,  with  closed-up  cells,  for  the  sap  arose 
through  the  softer  tissue  of  the  newer  wood, 


QUERCUS   OFFERED   HIMSELF    UP  TO   THE  TEETH 
OF   THE   SAW 


QUERCUS  11 

called  sap  wood.  Each  spring's  growth  formed 
a  new  ring  of  wood  around  the  old,  with  thin 
walls  to  the  cells  through  which  the  water 
could  hurry  up  to  the  laboratory  in  the 
leaves.  In  the  summer  the  cells  were  stouter 
walled  and  smaller  mouthed,  making  a  finer 
honeycomb,  or  as  you  would  crochet  a  pattern 
closer — if  you  are  a  girl — only,  of  course,  these 
cells  were  much  smaller  than  any  stitch  ever 
taken  with  a  crochet  needle.  Through  these 
rings  ran  the  silvery  pith  rays,  made  up  of 
storage  cells. 

As  Quercus  grew  stouter,  the  new  rings  of 
wood  became  narrower.  Between  the  last  ring 
of  wood  and  the  bark,  a  thin  layer  of  cambium 
covered  him  from  top  to  toe,  only  this  garment 
did  not  shrink,  as  your  union  suit  is  apt  to  do ; 
it  constantly  grew,  forming  new  wood  on  the 
inside  and  new  bark  on  the  outside.  And  thus 
he  grew  very  stout,  and  every  year  had  to  let 
out  his  coat,  which  began  to  look  quite  seamy. 

So  Quercus  became,  in  the  course  of  time,  a 
fine,  large  tree.  He  had  conquered  many  ene- 
mies, not  least  among  which  were  insects, 


12  FOREST  FANCIES 

small,  but  powerful.  Fungus  was  ready  to 
attack,  the  mistletoe  had  sought  to  over- 
come. Yet  these  had  taught  him  the  strength 
of  little  things,  the  power  of  the  weak  when 
persistence  takes  the  place  of  might.  It  was 
the  yearly  growth  of  tender  buds  and  tiny 
cells  which  had  given  him  his  powerful  frame 
and  made  him  monarch  of  the  forest. 

Quercus  had  conquered  the  years — a  cen- 
tury of  them;  and  not  insects,  nor  fungus,  nor 
mistletoe — not  sun,  nor  shade,  nor  wind,  nor 
snow — ^had  marred  his  strength.  Yet  the  time 
came  when,  like  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and 
Abednego,  he  must  pass  through  the  fiery  fur- 
nace. 

By  day  Quercus  had  rested  in  the  silence  of 
the  forest;  by  night  he  had  listened  to  that 
Voice  which  is  like  the  sound  of  a  mighty 
ocean  in  a  mammoth  shell,  when  Life  breathes 
upon  the  forest  and  it  becomes  alive  with  my- 
riad small  beings,  awake  and  musical.  He 
had  listened  to  the  wind  passing  over  the  wind- 
harp  of  trees,  with  the  soft  touch  of  the  zephyr 
or  the  reckless  crash  of  the  storm,  when  boughs 


QUERCUS  13 

broke  like  snapping  strings.  But  one  day 
there  came  a  sound  which  was  not  the  rush  of 
the  restless  wind,  though  the  wind  was  awake, 
lashing  the  fiery  steed  that  he  drove  till  its  red 
mane  streamed  far  over  the  forest  and  the 
dust  that  marked  its  track  clouded  the  sky  as 
smoke. 

The  wind  drove  the  fire  close  upon  Quercus, 
who  felt  the  thickness  of  his  armor  of  bark 
and  yet  was  afraid— not  for  himself  but  for 
the  child-trees,  for  the  nestling  birds,  for  the 
bright-eyed  squirrels.  He  looked  at  Pinus, 
slim  and  straight  and  tall  and  proud,  but 
Pinus  said : 

''My  armor  is  thin;  to  you  at  last  will  be  the 
victory!'^ 

The  wind  caught  the  words.  **The  fight 
shall  be  more  fair,"  said  he,  tearing  away  the 
wings  of  flame,  and  the  maimed  steed  crept 
along  the  ground,  past  Quercus,  past  Pinus, 
stopped  at  the  stream  that  flowed  through  the 
forest,  and  quenched  its  burning  thirst.  But 
about  the  feet  of  Quercus  the  red  lips  had 
licked  up  the  tender  seedlings,  leaving  the 


14  FOREST  FANCIES 

ground  black  and  dry ;  and  the  red  mane  had 
rubbed  against  Pinus  and  left  a  scar. 

As  in  the  soul  of  Man,  where  the  weak  spot 
is,  there  evil  enters,  so  disease  came  to  Pinus 
through  his  wound.  He  weakened  with  the 
years,  and  failed  to  claim  his  birthright  of  two 
centuries  or  more. 

Once,  years  past,  men  had  entered  the  for- 
est with  sharp  saws  and  cut  down  and  carried 
off  some  of  the  largest  trees.  Quercus  often 
wondered  whither  these  trees  had  gone,  and 
one  day  asked  the  wind. 

**They  went  to  the  mill,"  replied  the  wind, 
"to  be  sliced  into  boards  and  shipped  into 
towns.'' 

"And  then?" 

"The  boards  were  made  into  things  useful 
to  Man ;  for  Man  wants  a  great  many  things, 
without  which  he  thinks  he  cannot  be  comfort- 
able or  happy." 

"What  does  Man  make  out  of  our  wood?" 
asked  Quercus. 

"Ships  that  float  on  the  water,  bridges  so 
that  he  can  walk  over  the  water,  carriages  in 


QUERCUS  15 

which  to  ride,  houses  in  which  to  live,  beds 
and  chairs  to  make  him  comfortable,  fences 
so  that  he  can  own  a  piece  of  earth  and  keep 
his  neighbor  off." 

Almost  every  day,  as  the  wind  went  hurry- 
ing by  from  over  plains  and  cities  and  seas, 
the  trees  asked  him  questions.  Strollers  in  the 
wood,  listening,  said,  ^^Hear  the  wind  talking 
through  the  branches.'' 

Only  they  did  not  really  believe  that  the 
wind  was  talking,  though  all  the  while  he  was 
telling  the  trees  what  use  Man  made  of  their 
wood. 

'*I  should  like  to  be  a  house,"  said  one,  ^'a 
beautiful,  sweet  home  sheltering  a  family  of 
little  children,  even  as  now  I  shelter  birds  and 
squirrels." 

*^And  I,"  said  another  tree,  *^ should  like  to 
be  the  table  around  which  they  gathered  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night.  Years  afterward  they 
would  remember  me,  around  whom  they  had 
so  often  met." 

''And  I  would  be  the  chair  in  which  the 
grandfather  sat,"  said  a  third — ''a  good,  gray 


16  FOREST  FANCIES 

grandfather,  who  had  worked  strenuously,  and 
whose  last  years  I  would  make  comfortable; 
and  when  he  was  gone,  they  would  look  at  me 
and  love  me  and  leave  me  in  the  chosen 
place/' 

*^I  should  like  to  be  a  bridge,"  said  a  fourth, 
''and  know  the  ceaseless  tramp,  tramp  of  pass- 
ing feet.  Many  feet  would  touch  me,  and  by 
their  tread  I  could  tell  why  they  touched  me 
as  they  did — whether  joy  or  sorrow  or  busi- 
ness or  idle  fancy  took  them  over  my  prostrate 
form.  As  the  feet  touched  me,  I  should  be 
thinking,  thinking,  all  day  long,  and  even  at 
night  there  would  be  stories  to  tell.'' 

*'I  would  be  a  church  steeple,  ever  pointing 
upward,  even  as  here  I  have  striven  to  come 
closer  to  the  mystery  of  the  sky,"  said 
Pinus  with  his  failing  breath,  well  knowing 
that  upon  this  earth  his  work  Avas  forever 
done. 

*'I  would  be  the  mast  of  a  ship  that  rides 
triumphant  over  the  deep  sea."  said  the  son 
of  Pinus. 

''And  I,"  said  a  young  oak,  "would  be  the 


QUERCUS  17 

ties  over  which  those  iron  monsters  fly,  fast  as 
the  wind,  bearing  their  freight  of  human 
lives." 

'*I  would  be  a  tall  pole,"  said  another,  *^with 
wires  where  now  my  branches  are,  and  Man's 
thoughts  would  fly  over  them  faster  than  squir- 
rels, faster  than  the  flight  of  birds." 

**Nay,  I  would  be  none  of  those  things,"  said 
a  hickory.  *^I  would  know  the  touch  of  the 
keen  axe  until  I  was  hewn  into  a  thousand 
pieces,  and  these  pieces  should  be  placed  in  the 
grate  about  which  the  family  gathered  on  a 
winter  night.  Then  the  red  flames  would 
clasp  me  and  crown  me,  even  as  the  green 
leaves  now  bind  my  brow,  and  the  fire  would 
leap  through  my  veins,  even  as  the  sweet  sap 
now  flows  through  them,  until  at  last  that 
which  had  been  given  me  by  the  earth,  would 
return  to  the  earth  as  ashes,  and  that  which 
had  been  given  me  by  the  air,  would  be  freed 
from  the  bondage  of  my  being  and  return  to 
the  spirit  of  the  air." 

**And  what  would  you  be  ?"  asked  the  wind, 
caressing  the  giant  frame  of  Quercus, 


18  FOREST  FANCIES 

*^I  would  be  the  cradle  of  babyhood,"  re- 
plied the  king  of  the  forest,  while  the  laugh- 
ter of  the  trees  ran  like  squirrels  over  the 
branches.  Unheeding,  he  continued,  **And  as 
I  rocked  the  child,  I  would  whisper  tales  of 
the  forest,  till  he  smiled  at  my  fancies  and  slept 
his  innocent  sleep.  I  would  tell  him  the  stories 
of  acorns  and  ivy  and  birds.  What  the  wind 
has  told  me,  I  would  tell  him,  till  his  fancies 
were  as  flowers  and  the  sunbeams  of  happy 
thoughts  touched  him  with  their  radiance. 
And  all  the  while  I  would  be  giving  him  the 
strength  which  is  the  strength  of  a  great  tree, 
the  patience  which  is  found  in  the  growth  of 
a  century,  the  endurance  which  comes  from 
a  struggle  for  life  from  infancy. 

^*  What  I  have  attained,  he  should  attain,  my 
strength  should  be  his  strength ;  and  he  at  last 
would  be  crowned  with  victory  in  the  struggle 
of  life,  even  as  I  am  crowned  with  branches 
and  leaves.  And  while  he  stood  firm  on  the 
foundation  of  world-wisdom,  upon  his  head 
would  rest  the  eternal  sunlight  of  a  Higher 
Truth — the    consciousness    of   Life    Divine, 


QUERCUS  19 

Night  after  night  I  would  hold  him  in  my  arms 
and  teach  him  these  things.'' 

They  were  silent  as  the  monarch  paused. 

*^May  your  wishes  come  true,  dear  chil- 
dren of  the  forest!"  whispered  the  wind, 
touching  them  lightly  at  parting. 

Quercus  thoughtfully  sheltered  the  birds, 
gave  food  to  the  squirrels,  offered  a  staff  to 
the  struggling  ivy,  and  a  home  to  myriad  small 
creatures. 

'^Should  Man  never  need  me,  is  this  all  there 
is  for  me  to  do?"  he  asked  the  wind  one  day. 

*'Look  high  over  the  other  trees,"  replied 
the  wind;  ^^see  the  streams  winding  through 
the  land,  with  water  for  stock  and  city,  mill 
and  ship.  How  finely  the  green  hills  slope  to 
the  valley,  fruitful  and  populous!  You  and 
your  brothers  and  sisters  are  the  bulwark  of 
safety  about  this  smiling  land.  Your  roots 
bind  the  soil  upon  the  hillside,  and  under  the 
forest  floor  is  a  hidden  well  of  rain,  from  which 
the  springs  forever  fill  their  overflowing  ves- 
sels. So  the  good  streams  bless  you  for  life, 
and  Man  blesses  you  for  his  prosperity." 


20  FOREST  FANCIES 

Quercus  saw  the  browsing  cattle,  the  fields 
of  shining  grain,  the  bending  orchard  boughs, 
and  said,  '*I  would  remain  here  to  the  end  of 
my  days." 

^'Look,''  said  the  wind,  inclining  the  oak's 
head. 

And  Quercus  saw  the  young  trees  struggling 
for  life. 

' '  In  time  you  must  die, ' '  said  the  wind.  ' '  If 
then  your  children  are  dead,  who  will  take 
your  place  in  the  forest?" 

Quercus  was  silent. 

The  following  day  men  came  with  sharp 
saws,  as  strong  as  the  teeth  of  the  storm.  Quer- 
cus, looking  down  at  Alba,  his  offspring,  be- 
ginning to  falter  in  the  mighty  and  everlasting 
struggle  for  existence,  said,  *'  ^A  life  for  a 
life,'  "  and  offered  himself  up  to  the  teeth  of 
the  saw. 

And  when  he,  the  monarch,  had  fallen,  and 
they  had  stripped  the  crown  from  his  head 
and  borne  him  away,  the  forest  became  silent ; 
the  birds  gazed  questioningly  at  the  vacant 
throne,  the  squirrels  glanced  timorously  at  the 


QUERCUS  21 

great  rent  in  the  leafy  forest  roof;  while  the 
wind,  passing  his  hand  over  the  harp  of  the 
trees,  and  seeking  in  vain  the  strong,  deep 
note  that  had  rung  so  long  in  the  forest  har- 
mony, swept  the  strings  tenderly,  and  was 
still. 


THE  SUGAR  MOON 


THE   SUGAR  MOON 

T  is  time  for  the  maples  to  wake  up," 
said  Nokomis,  the  earth-mother. 

They  were  still  drowsy  atop,  though 
down  in  the  ground  the  sleepless  root- 
lets, thinking  the  snow  all  gone,  were  wide 
awake  and  very  thirsty.  So  the  trees  drew  up 
soil-water  through  their  cells,  and  the  sugar 
stored  away  last  year  in  the  form  of  starch, 
now  sweetened  the  flowing  sap  ready  for  the 
first  spring  food  of  the  awakening  buds. 

^^The  sap  stirs,"  said  Farmer  Brier,  ^^and 
it's  time  to  sugar  off." 

Many,  many  years  ago — so  the  Indians  tell 
— Nokomis,  the  earth-mother,  made  maple 
sugar.  One  day  she  cut  small  holes  in  the 
trees,  put  a  little  piece  of  wood  into  each  hole, 
and  placed  a  vessel  under  it.  Then  her  grand- 
son, the  hero  Manabush,  looking  into  the  ves- 

25 


26  FOREST  FANCIES 

sels,  found  them  suddenly  half -full  of  thick 
sirup.  He  put  his  finger  into  the  sirup,  then 
popped  it  into  his  mouth,  and  found  it 
sweet. 

''Mj  grandmother,"  he  said,  ^Hhis  is  all  very 
good,  yet  it  will  not  do  to  have  the  trees  give 
sirup  in  this  way.  The  people  will  not  have 
any  work  to  do  if  they  make  sugar  so  easily ; 
they  must  cut  wood  and  boil  the  sirup  several 
nights,  to  keep  them  busy,  that  they  may  not 
form  bad  habits.    I  will  change  all  this." 

Then  Manabush  climbed  to  the  very  top  of 
a  maple  tree  and  threw  water  all  over  it  like 
rain,  to  dissolve  the  sugar  and  let  it  flow  from 
the  tree  in  the  form  of  sap. 

So  Farmer  Brier  had  Manabush  to  thank 
when  he  cut  much  wood  in  his  grove,  ready  to 
sugar  off. 

He  now  brought  an  auger  and  bored  a  hole  in 
a  maple  tree,  and  when  he  had  driven  in  a 
sumach  spout  and  hung  a  pail  for  the  dripping 
sap,  he  bored  a  hole  on  the  other  side  of  the 
tree,  drove  in  another  spout,  and  hung  another 
pail.    So  he  went  from  tree  to  tree. 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  27 

Two  children  followed  their  father  into  the 
wood.  ' '  Sister,  the  sap  is  running  I ' '  cried  the 
boy. 

''Brother,  I  cannot  see,"  sighed  the  little 
girl,  tiptoeing. 

As  Brother  lifted  her  to  let  her  look  into 
the  pail,  he  heard  a  sound— not  the  wind,  or 
the  welcoming  frogs,  or  the  returning  robins — 
no,  it  breathed  from  the  very  heart  of  the  tree, 
a  sigh,  as  when  one  awakens.  A  tremor  passed 
over  the  branches,  which  was  not  from  the 
south  wind's  caress,  and  a  sweet  spirit  in  the 
maple  tree  awoke  to  life. 

''Let  us  follow  Father,"  said  the  boy,  "and 
see  him  tap  the  trees." 

Then  the  spirit  in  the  maple  tree  smiled 
and  tried  to  reach  out  to  him;  but,  alas!  like 
the  sunshine,  she  had  no  hands,  so  she  watched 
the  children  follow  their  father  through  the 
wood,  longing  to  be  a  child  with  them  and 
pondering  how  her  wish  might  be  realized. 

"I  will  ask  Old  Nokomis,  the  earth-mother," 
she  said  to  herself  that  night. 

The  snow  was  falling,  clothing  the  trees  once 


28  FOREST  FANCIES 

more  in  their  winter  white,  and  Old  Nokomis, 
the  earth-mother,  wore  ermine  on  her  blanket 
as  her  moccasins  fell  softly  on  the  carpet  of 
eiderdown,  leaving  no  mark — though  the  rab- 
bits left  their  fanlike  footprints  and  the  squir- 
rels their  tiny  tracks. 

^^Nokomis,"  cried  a  voice  from  the  maple 
tree,  *'when  in  mid-March  the  father  comes 
tapping  the  trees,  the  children  follow.  Give 
me  hands  to  touch  and  feet  to  run,  eyes  to  see 
and  lips  to  laugh,  and  loose  me  from  the  bonds 
of  the  maple  tree — for  the  children  are  sweet, 
sweeter  than  the  maple  sap  I" 

Old  Nokomis,  gazing  at  the  tree's  shaggy 
bark,  long  past  the  smoothness  of  youth,  re- 
plied, **  Daughter,  you  are  a  child  in  spirit, 
though  your  maple  tree  has  grown  old.  Yet, 
old  as  is  your  maple  tree,  only  I  remember  the 
days  before  the  Pale  Face  brought  his  snow- 
white  sugar  and  his  golden  honeybee ;  only  I 
remember  how  the  Red  Man  slanted  his  cut  in 
the  maple's  side,  gathered  the  sweet  water  in 
vessels  of  bark  or  clay,  and  dropped  in  the 
heated  stones.    The  tribes  had  a  festival  or 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  29 

a  Maple  Dance,  for  the  maple  sweet  was  their 
April  food  and  they  welcomed  the  Sugar 
Moon. 

^^Then  by-and-by  fair-faced  children  came 
begging  for  the  sweet  taste  as  their  fathers 
tapped  the  trees  in  the  old  Indian  way,  caught 
the  sap  in  wooden  troughs,  and  boiled  it  over 
a  fire  in  metal  pots." 

**But  tell  me,  I  pray,  more  about  the  chil- 
dren.'' 

*' Daughter,  you  are  impatient,"  said  Old 
Nokomis,  the  earth-mother.  *^You  long  to 
steal  forth  with  the  flowing  sap  and  be  a  child 
at  the  sugar-making." 

**Yes,  that  is  my  wish.  And  I  would  re- 
main as  other  children,  and  live  in  their  home 
and  grow  and  work  and  play  with  them  and 
be  always  one  in  their  midst." 

**So  shall  it  be,"  said  Nokomis,  ** unless  the 
spell  be  broken." 

**What  spell  must  not  be  broken'?" 

*^Love,  like  sunlight,  will  draw  you  forth; 
but  discord,  like  the  frost,  will  drive  you  back. 
Will  you  go?" 


30  FOREST  FANCIES 

^'I  will  go." 

*  *  When  I  call,  you  must  come ;  for  only  while 
the  sweet  water  freely  flows  will  you  have  eyes 
and  ears,  to  look  and  listen,  and  hands  and 
feet,  to  touch  and  run  as  children  do.  But 
when  the  buds  awake  and  the  leaves  unfold,  I 
will  call  no  more." 

Then  Old  Nokomis  and  the  night  shadows 
and  the  veil  of  snow  were  gone.  The  pale 
flower  of  dawn  bloomed  in  the  sky,  and  all 
was  white  and  pure  like  the  heart  of  a  little 
child. 

When  Farmer  Brier  drove  with  his  sledge  to 
the  wood,  he  had  a  barrel  for  the  sap  from 
the  scattered  maples  on  the  hillside.  **What  a 
good  run  of  sap,"  thought  he,  emptying  a  pail 
into  the  carrying-bucket;  **I  guess  there's 
enough  to  boil." 

He  shoveled  the  snow  from  the  two  big  back 
logs,  over  which  he  hung  a  caldron  and  a  ket- 
tle, each  balanced  on  the  end  of  a  long  pole 
set  across  a  post.  The  heavy  pole  was 
weighted  with  stones  at  the  other  end,  to  turn 
the  caldron  on  or  off  the  fire.    Then  he  tore 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  31 

bark  from  a  birch  tree  and  struck  a  match. 

Ready  to  gather  the  sap  of  near-by  trees,  the 
two  children  came  racing  through  the  snow. 

^'Lemme  taste  the  sugar  water,"  begged  the 
little  girl,  all  eager. 

So  the  boy  lifted  a  shining  pail  to  her  rosy 
lips— when  a  little  maiden  slipped  from  the 
tree  in  a  most  surprising  way,  like  a  sunbeam 
sliding  to  the  ground  and  taking  form.  He 
started,  and  almost  dropped  the  pail. 

''Helloal"  he  cried.  ''Who  are  you,  any- 
way?" 

''Nani,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"Nani  what?"  he  asked. 

"Only  Nani,"  she  answered  wonderingly. 

*'How  funny,"  he  said;  ''why,  our  names 
are  Dick  and  Dotty  May  Brier." 

"Then  I  am  Nani  Niset— sugar  maple  girl/^ 
she  laughed,  and  so  the  three  made  friends. 

"  'Tis  a  neighbor-child,"  thought  Farmer 
Brier,  as  Nani  joined  the  children  at  their 
task. 

As  the  sap  boiled,  Farmer  Brier  dipped  it 
from  the  caldron  into  the  kettle,  and  threw 


32  FOREST  FANCIES 

in  cold  milk  to  keep  it  from  bubbling  over. 
Dick  drove  Dotty  May  home  on  the  sledge, 
but  Nani  remained  in  the  sugar  bush  to  help 
dip  the  thin  sirup  into  a  barrel.  Suddenly  she 
paused;  the  sun  had  set,  and  there  was  frost 
in  the  air. 

**I  hear  the  earth-mother  calling,"  said  she, 
**and  I  must  go." 

'^That's  a  good  girl,  mind  your  ma,"  replied 
Farmer  Brier,  looking  around. 

But  Nani  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

When  Dick  returned,  he  questioned  his 
father  about  her. 

**She  went  mighty  sudden,"  said  Farmer 
Brier,  simply,  ^*but  I  guess  it's  all  right." 

The  next  day,  Uncle  Isaac,  long  and  lean, 
came  to  help  in  the  sugar  bush. 

^* Where  do  you  live  at,  anyhow?"  he  asked 
as  Nani  joined  them  in  the  maple  grove. 

*'I  live  in  the  sugar  bush!"  laughed  she. 

**Hev  your  folks  made  maple  sugar  long?" 
he  questioned  her  further. 

^^Nokomis,  the  earth-mother,  made  maple 
sugar  before  the  White  Man  came. 


>> 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  33 

*'She  must  be  a  very  old  lady,"  observed 
Uncle  Isaac. 

*'Yes,  she  is  old" — and  Nani  laughed  again 
— "she  is  old,  as  old  as  the  earth  I" 

** That's  six  thousand  years,"  said  Uncle 
Isaac,  who  was  very  orthodox.  "She  can't  be 
that  old.  Even  Methusely  was  only  nine  hun- 
dred years  old.  Do  you  know  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments?" 

"I  know  but  one  commandment,"  answered 
Nani. 

"What's  that?" 

"Love,"  she  replied,  and  ran  to  bring  more 
wood  for  the  fire. 

At  sunset  Nani  slipped  away  among  the 
shadows,  and  none  saw  her  go. 

She  did  not  return  on  the  morrow.  It  was 
too  cold  for  the  sap  to  run,  and  Farmer  Brier 
washed  the  pots  and  pails  and  waited  for 
spring  weather. 

Dotty  May  had  followed  her  father  into  the 
sugar  bush,  but  was  not  to  be  seen  when  he 
started  for  home.  There  was  no  reply  to  his 
loud  "Helloa!"  so,  thinking  she  had  gone 


34  FOREST  FANCIES 

home,  he  went  whistling  through  the  wood. 

Dotty  May  had  come  to  the  maple  grove,  not 
for  the  sake  of  the  sugar  water,  but  to  seek  her 
playmate  Nani.  She  went  far  into  the  wood 
in  her  quest,  but  no  Nani  answered  her  call, 
and  now  night  shades  were  falling  and  the 
frost  was  pinching  her  little  nose.  She  sat 
down  on  a  stump  and  began  to  cry. 

*^The  little  one  cries  for  me,''  thought  Nani; 
^*  could  love  give  me  a  form,  I  would  go 
to  her."  And  her  feet  bore  her  swiftly  to 
Dotty  May. 

*^Nani,  my  Nani  I"  cried  Dotty  May. 

**I  have  come,  dear,  for  just  a  little  while," 
said  Nani.  **Come,  take  my  hand,  and  I  will 
lead  you  home." 

Smothering  her  sobs.  Dotty  May  put  her 
trusting  hand  into  Nani's  and  trudged  beside 
her  through  the  shadowy  woods. 

** Hurry,  little  one,"  urged  Nani,  as  they 
neared  the  maple  grove. 

They  were  now  on  the  hillside,  in  sight  of 
home. 

'^Good-bye,  Dotty  May,"  she  said,  loosening 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  35 

the  clinging  hand.  **The  earth-mother  is  call- 
ing me,  so  run  home  as  fast  as  you  can." 

And  before  Dotty  May  could  answer,  Nani 
was  gone — but  where  ? 

Sunny  days  followed!,  with  frosty  nights, 
so  the  days  were  busy  ones  for  the  workers 
in  the  sugar  bush.  Every  morning  Nani  was 
there  to  lend  a  willing  hand,  but  every  night 
she  slipped  away  and  none  knew  where  she 
went — ^it  was  like  the  passing  of  the  sunbeams 
when  the  sun  calls,  and  they  obey  his  summons 
promptly  like  good  children.  And  so  Nani 
came  and  went  with  the  sunbeams  and  seemed 
one  with  them. 

One  morning  Aunt  Miranda  came  to  help 
boil  down  the  sirup.  Aunt  Miranda  looked  as 
if  she  had  been  cut  out  of  cardboard  with  a 
pair  of  sharp  scissors. 

*^So  this  is  the  children's  friend,''  she  said, 
looking  through  her  spectacles  at  Nani. 
^^What  is  your  name,  did  you  say  ?" 

**Nani,"  was  the  reply. 

''Well,  Nanny,"  said  Aunt  Miranda,  ''I 
guess  you  must  hev  been  raised  in  the  sugar 


36  FOREST  FANCIES 

bush,  you  air  so  handy  at  the  siruping-down. 
I  like  useful  children.  Has  your  ma  got  many 
like  you?'' 

**So  many,"  cried  Nani,  'Hhat  she  is  going 
to  let  me  come  and  stay  with  you  I'' 

And  she  laughed  as  she  ran  to  gather  more 
sap,  for  the  maples  gave  her  plentifully  of 
their  store.  Aunt  Miranda's  spectacles  were 
very  clear,  and  she  saw  that  the  trees 
responded  to  Nani's  touch  as  if  Nani  were  the 
very  sunshine. 

*^She  certainly  is  a  likely  child,''  she  said 
briskly  to  Uncle  Isaac  and  Farmer  Brier, 
*^and  it  would  really  pay  to  give  her  a  home. 
Her  folks  most  likely  want  to  bind  her 
out." 

The  thin  sirup  that  had  been  saved  from 
time  to  time  was  now  put  over  the  fire.  When 
it  was  warm.  Aunt  Miranda  stirred  in  beaten 
eggs  to  clarify  it,  and  before  it  boiled.  Uncle 
Isaac  skimmed  off  the  dark  scum  that  rose  to 
the  surface,  leaving  the  clear,  honey-colored 
sirup  to  boil  and  thicken  until  ready  to  strain 
into  the  bright  new  cans. 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  37 

Toward  evening  Dick  and  Dotty  May  went 
after  the  cows,  and  Uncle  Isaac  followed  to 
do  the  milking. 

**  Nanny,  do  you  believe  your  ma  would  miind 
if  you  come  home  with  me*?''  asked  Aunt  Mi- 
randa. *^  Couldn't  you  run  home  and  ask 
her?" 

The  evening  had  turned  warm ;  so  Nani  an- 
swered, ^^I  may  stay  with  you  when  the  night 
is  so  mild  that  the  sap  will  run.'' 

''Some  folks  don't  approve  of  their  children 
staying  with  a  neighbor  overnight,"  remarked 
Aunt  Miranda,  ''but  I  gues  your  ma  knows 
who  the  Briers  air." 

They  had  reached  the  opening  of  the  woods, 
and  on  the  hillside  below  nestled  the  white 
farmhouse.  Unasked,  Nani's  hand  sought 
Aunt  Miranda's,  and  she  skipped  gaily  along 
beside  her. 

But  Aunt  Miranda  glanced  sideways  at 
her  through  her  spectacles.  "Don't  waste 
your  strength  that  way  I"  she  said  sharply. 
"There's  lots  to  be  done  in  this  work-a-day 
world — dishwashing,  dusting,  and  sich  like — 


38  FOREST  FANCIES 

and  one  can't  afford  to  prance  jest  for  noth- 
ing 1'' 

Nani  snatched  her  hand  away,  her  radiance 
quite  fading  as  she  cried,  ^^O  Aunt  Mi- 
randa, I  can't  go  with  you — ^just  yet!  I'm 
afraid " 

*^ Afraid  of  what?"  demanded  Aunt  Mi- 
randa. 

**  Afraid,  Aunt  Miranda,  that  you  might 
break  the  spell!"  and  Nani  laughed  gaily,  flit- 
ting away  through  the  darkening  wood. 

So  rapidly  was  the  sap  dripping  that 
Farmer  Brier  prepared  to  continue  the  boil- 
ing all  night. 

The  light  of  the  campfire  played  over  the 
gray  columns  of  the  trees  and  awoke  the  rest- 
less shadows  under  them.  It  danced  in  a  cir- 
cle, like  an  elfin  ring,  and  a  little  bright  figure 
skipped  in  and  out  among  the  shadows,  with 
the  firelight  for  a  partner.  Yet  Farmer  Brier 
did  not  notice ;  in  fact,  he  was  so  busy  that  he 
had  no  time  for  dreams  or  dancing  shadows 
or  firelight  frisking  with  an  elf,  for  he  was  a 
simple,  practical  man,  and  when  the  moon 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  39 

looked  curiously  down  through  the  bare 
branches  to  see  what  he  was  about  at  midnight 
in  the  sugar  bush,  she  found  him  intent  upon 
his  task. 

But  Farmer  Brier  grew  very  tired,  so  tired 
that  sleepiness  crept  over  him,  a  drowsiness 
not  to  be  thrown  off.  And  so  the  ladle  moved 
slower  and  slower ;  he  sank  down  on  a  log  and 
leaned  against  a  tree,  yielding  to  the  enchant- 
ment of  moon  and  firelight  and  the  music  of 
the  dripping  sap. 

Drip,  drip  fell  the  sap  into  the  pails,  with 
different  notes,  some  loud,  some  low,  some 
quick,  some  slow,  some  near,  some  far  away. 
Higher  danced  the  flames,  as  if  to  look  farther 
into  the  dark  mystery  of  the  wood;  sputter, 
sputter,  came  from  the  boiling  caldron;  but 
Farmer  Brier  slept. 

And  now  the  little  dancing  figure  with  the 
firelight  for  a  partner,  glided  from  among  the 
shadows  and  stole  softly  up  to  Farmer  Brier, 
taking  the  ladle  from  his  tired  hand. 

The  dawn  awoke  him.  Dazed,  he  looked 
around.    Yes,  he  had  slept  at  his  post.    The 


40  FOREST  FANCIES 

fire  had  burned  out,  and  an  empty  caldron 
hung  over  the  ashes;  but  near  by,  in  a  puz- 
zling row,  stood  shining  cans  of  golden  sirup. 

''Done  from  start  to  finish  I"  he  exclaimed. 

Farmer  Brier  could  not  account  for  this,  yet 
did  not  deny  what  he  could  not  explain.  He 
simply  accepted  facts,  and  went  home  to  his 
breakfast. 

A  rainy  day  came  into  the  midst  of  the  sir- 
up-making, when  only  Farmer  Brier  and 
Uncle  Isaac  worked  in  the  sugar  bush,  but  in 
the  afternoon  they  covered  up  caldron  and  ket- 
tle and  left  the  grove  to  the  beating  rain. 

Nani,  hidden  all  the  morning  in  a  hollow 
tree,  now  strolled  lonesomely  through  the 
maple  grove.  Sometimes  she  peeped  through 
the  trees  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  at  the  snug 
farmhouse  nestled  under  the  hill,  and  by- 
and-by  she  sat  down  on  a  sheltered  log  to  watch 
Dick  and  Dotty  May  romping  on  the  porch. 
She  could  see  Farmer  Brier  and  Uncle  Isaac 
at  work,  and  hear  Aunt  Miranda  call  to  the 
hungry  fowls.  Another  figure,  too,  she  saw 
through  the  veil  of  rain,  a  comfortable,  moth- 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  41 

erly  form  moving  in  and  out,  bent  on  house- 
hold tasks. 

Evening  drew  near.  Nani  saw  the  mother, 
with  cloak  and  umbrella  and  basket,  go  down 
the  road;  but  she  took  a  short  cut  home 
through  the  maple  wood,  and  so  came  upon 
Nani  sitting  under  the  tree,  watching  for  her 
return  along  the  road. 

'^Dear  child,"  she  said,  '*why  are  you  sit- 
ting out  in  the  rain  ?  Only  little  ducklings  like 
so  much  wet."  She  sat  down  on  the  log  and 
drew  Nani  close  under  the  big  umbrella. 

*  *  I  do  not  mind  the  rain, ' '  replied  Nani.  *  *  It 
makes  the  plants  grow,  and  so  perhaps  it  will 
be  good  for  me." 

**Are  you  far  from  home?"  the  mother 
asked. 

**I  live  in  the  wood,"  answered  Nani. 

'*Come,  I  will  take  you  home  under  my  um- 
brella," said  Mrs.  Brier. 

Nani  crept  closer.  * '  This  is  my  home — right 
here." 

The  mother  looked  down  at  the  strange  child, 
of  whom  she  had  heard  so  much  yet  never  seen 


42  FOREST  FANCIES 

before.  **Tell  me  all  about  yourself,  dear 
child.  Where  is  your  home  ?  Have  you  broth- 
ers and  sisters?" 

*^0h,  many,  many!"  Nani  cried. 

**Ah,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Brier  thoughtfully, 
glancing  at  Nani's  odd  dress;  **I  see,  you  live 
in  an  institution." 

Nani  laughed  merrily.  **Tes,  I  am  the  in- 
mate of  an  institution,"  she  replied.  ^^But 
when  the  maple  buds  awake,  I  may  come  and 
live  with  you,  if " 

''If  what,  child?" 

*'If  the  charm  be  not  broken,"  said  Nani. 

When  the  mother  j&rst  put  her  arm,  like  a 
warm  cloak,  around  the  child,  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  holding  a  shadow — or  a  sunbeam,  rather; 
but  the  longer  they  sat  thus  together,  the 
firmer  she  seemed  to  hold  Nani,  into  whose 
cheek  a  flush  dawned  and  into  whose  clear  eyes 
a  look  came  which  made  her  seem  more  real; 
and  the  mother-eyes,  looking  down  into  the 
bright  face,  half  caught  the  mystery  that  she 
could  not  understand  yet  which  her  heart 
seemed  to  know. 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  43 

*'It  is  well,"  said  she.  *' There  is  a  sunny 
room  for  you  and  Dotty  May,  and  you,  my 
child,  will  take  the  place  of  one  who  left  me 
years  ago — ^you  will  take  her  place  and  abide 
with  me  and  be  my  own,  to  live  not  only  in 
our  home  but  in  our  hearts. 

**And  now,"  she  added,  *'come  home  with 
me,  out  of  the  rain,  for  it  is  growing  colder, 
and  there  will  be  a  frost  to-night." 

*'Ah,  if  there  is  a  frost,"  sighed  Nani,  draw- 
ing back,  ''I  may  not  go." 

^*Then  good-bye,  little  one,  for  I  must  leave 
you."  And  the  mother  stooped  and  kissed 
her. 

Nani  sat  down  again  upon  the  log,  and 
looked  long  at  the  farmhouse  as  it  melted  into 
the  evening  shade.  By-and-by  a  light  spark- 
led from  a  window,  then  another;  still  Nani 
sat  on  the  log,  gazing  wistfully  at  the  happy 
home.  The  rain  turned  to  snow,  yet  she  no- 
ticed not;  but  at  Old  Nokomis'  call  she  started 
up,  with  a  longing  backward  glance  at  the  old 
farmhouse  now  gone  to  sleep  under  the  hill. 

The  sun,  smiling  through  the  bare  branches, 


44  FOREST  FANCIES 

found  an  ermine  carpet  spread  in  the  maple 
grove.  He  awoke  the  trees  from  their  night 
napping,  and  soon  the  sap  dripped  gaily  into 
the  waiting  pails. 

To-day  was  the  first  sugaring-off,  and  the 
white  carpet  was  soon  tracked  over  by  busy 
feet.  After  the  thin  sirup  had  been  boiled  and 
stirred  for  hours,  Farmer  Brier  looped  a  twig, 
dipped  it  quickly  into  the  kettle,  and  blew 
through  the  film  spread  over  the  loop. 

''It  feathers,"  said  he,  ''and  the  sugar  is 
done." 

The  thick,  amber  liquid  was  now  taken  from 
the  fire  and  poured  into  molds  to  granulate 
into  golden  bricks  of  sugar.  There  were  two 
saucers  in  which  to  mold  sugar  cakes  for  Nani 
and  Dotty  May,  but  Dick  had  brought  empty 
egg-shells  to  be  filled. 

"They  are  for  next  Christmas,"  he  ex- 
plained— "one  for  each  cousin  in  the  city;  but 
the  big  one  is  for  Nani  Niset." 

"Christmas  is  a  long  ways  off,"  drawled 
Uncle  Isaac. 

"Oh,  but  I  love  to  think  of  it  now,  'specially 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  45 

with  snow  on  the  ground,"  cried  Dick.  **Be- 
sides,  if  we  thought  of  our  friends  only  at 
Christmas  time,  how  lonesome  the  rest  of  the 
year  would  be!" 

Dotty  May,  hovering  over  the  nest  of  maple 
sugar  eggs,  picked  up  the  large  one,  thinking 
of  the  game,  '^  Heavy,  heavy  hangs  over  your 
head!"  Just  one  little  nibble,  then  an- 
other  

''How  could  you.  Dotty  May!"  cried  Dick, 
stamping  his  foot  in  the  snow. 

His  eyes  flashed,  his  cheeks  were  brighter 
than  the  flames. 

''She  is  so  little,"  Nani  pleaded,  her  arms 
around  the  small  offender;  "she  did  not  mean 
to  make  you  angry,  Dick." 

Then  he  turned  upon  Nani,  and  his  words 
rushed  out  like  angry  bees.  What  he  said,  he 
did  not  know,  nor  could  he  ever  quite  recall ; 
but  he  saw  her  protecting  arms  release  their 
hold,  she  drooped  and  faded  like  a  flower  that 
dies. 

"Oh,  where  is  Nanil"  wailed  Dotty  May. 

But  only  a  withered  leaf  Twirled  by. 


46  FOREST  FANCIES 

Uncle  Isaac,  too,  saw  Nani  vanisK,  yet  He 
would  not  believe  his  own  eyes  because  he 
could  not  explain  what  he  saw.  And  when 
Dick  sobbed  out  how  Nani  had  disappeared, 
Aimt  Miranda  said  decidedly: 

**  Reuben  Brier,  you  let  them  children  read 
too  many  fairy  tales!'' 

But  Nani  was  gone.  It  was  useless  to  look 
behind  trees  or  poke  bare  bushes.  Yet  to  com- 
fort Dick,  his  father  said  that  he  might  go  to 
the  sugar  camp  a  few  miles  away,  to  see  if 
Nani  could  be  there. 

**She  must  be  a  sugar-maker's  little  lass," 
said  Farmer  Brier,  '^she  was  so  handy  at  the 
sugaring-off." 

So  the  next  day  Dick  set  out  to  visit  the 
sugar  camp  near  by;  and  if  he  had  not  been 
so  intent  upon  finding  Nani,  he  would  have 
noticed  how  here  the  sap  dripped  through 
metal  spouts  into  covered  pails.  He  entered 
the  shelter-building,  in  which  the  sap, 
flowing  through  a  pipe  from  the  storage 
tank,  was  boiled  over  a  firebox  in  a  partitioned 
pan. 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  47 

'*Have  you  seen  a  little  girl  by  the  name  of 
Nani  here?"  he  asked  of  the  man  who  was 
tending  the  sirup,  so  like  in  color  to  Nani's 
eyes  and  hair. 

''There  was  a  little  gal  here  yesterday— a 
dark,  sulky  child,"  replied  the  man. 

''That  wasn't  Nani,  then,"  said  Dick,  "for 
Nani  was  sunny  and  looked  like  pretty  maple 
sugar." 

He  would  have  continued  his  search  to  the 
big  sugar-house  still  farther  on,  but  vaguely 
realized  that  he  would  never  find  Nani  among 
modern  evaporators — ^no,  he  must  look  else- 
where.   And  so  he  returned  alone. 

The  Sugar  Moon  was  waning,  and  the  dark- 
ening sap  loosing  its  sweetness  and  flavor,  so 
the  holes  were  plugged  with  green  wood,  and 
the  maple  grove  given  over  to  the  buds  and  the 
birds. 

It  seemed  very  lonesome  to  Dick  and  Dotty 
May  as  they  trudged  through  it  one  day,  bound 
to  find  Nani  if  Nani  were  to  be  found.  Leav- 
ing familiar  haunts,  they  wandered  far 
through  the  forest,  and  finally  came  to  a  wig- 


48  FOREST  FANCIES 

warn,  by  the  door  of  which  sat  a  very  old  In- 
dian woman. 

*'Can  you  tell  me,"  inquired  Dick,  '^ where 
a  little  girl  named  Nani  lives  ?  We  have  come 
very  far  to  find  her." 

The  old  Indian  woman  smiled. 

*'I  was  angry,"  he  added  frankly,  ^^and  she 
went  away." 

^^Yes,  I  know,"  replied  the  Indian  woman. 

^^Will  she  never  come  back?"  he  asked.  ^^I 
did  wrong,  but  want  to  make  it  right.  Tell  me 
where  I  can  find  her." 

The  old  woman's  face,  like  unto  creased  cop- 
per, softened  at  his  words.  Dotty  May  had 
ceased  her  crying,  and  was  pulling  at  the  In- 
dian's blanket;  for  she  was  not  afraid  of  her 
now,  so  fast  did  her  face  soften  and  the  strange 
wrinkles  disappear. 

'* There  is  but  one  way  to  find  Nani,"  an- 
swered the  Indian  woman. 

**Tell  me,"  cried  Dick — ^*no  way  is  too 
hardl" 

'*The  earth  draws  its  life  from  the  sun," 
she    said,    ^^but    Nani    drew   her    life    from 


THE  SUGAR  MOON  49 

love.  Your  harsh  words  cut  the  golden  cord. 
Yet  you  wish  to  undo  what  you  have  done." 

**Yes,''  sighed  Dick,  with  drooping  head, 
**so  tell  me  the  way  back.'' 

^*  *The  way  back  I'  "  she  repeated.  *^ People 
always  fancy  there  is  a  way  back  when  their 
error  leads  them  into  sorrow.  But  this  time," 
she  added  gently,  ^Hhere  is  a  way  straight 
ahead." 

He  looked  up  eagerly. 

** Listen,"  said  she:  *Svhen  you  have 
thought  ten  thousand  kind  thoughts,  when  you 
have  said  ten  thousand  kind  words,  when  you 
have  done  ten  thousand  kind  deeds,  kindness 
will  be  a  habit,  and " 

"Yes,  tell  me,"  he  cried,  "shall  I  find  Nani 
then?" 

"Yes,  you  will  find  Nani,  brighter,  more 
beautiful  than  before!"  And  her  face  shone 
radiant  and  tender  as  she  bent  upon  the  two 
children  a  smile  like  the  return  of  spring. 

Then  the  Indian  woman  and  the  wigwam 
were  gone,  and  around  them  remained  only  the 
trees  and  underbrush  and  springing  ferns. 


50  FOREST  FANCIES 

Dick  took  the  hand  of  Dotty  May  and  led 
her  thoughtfully  through  the  forest.  They 
reached  at  last  the  maple  grove,  grown  lovely 
now  with  bursting  buds.  Some  trees,  most  im- 
patient for  May,  wore  a  hint  of  tan-tinted 
leaves  and  a  fringe  of  fairy  bells.  Dick  gazed 
up  at  the  shining  treetops  against  the  azure 
sky;  the  sunlight  on  them  was  like  the 
shimmer  of  Nani's  hair — no,  it  was  more  like 
Nani's  smile.  His  face  brightened;  he  did  not 
really  know,  he  could  not  say  for  sure,  yet  he 
was  almost  certain  that  Nani  was  with  them 
in  the  maple  wood.  He  smiled  as  he  clasped 
tighter  the  dimpled  hand  of  Dotty  May:  for 
did  not  love  lead  him  nearer  to  his  desire? 
And  he  knew  that  at  the  end  of  a  sunbeam 
path,  Nani  would  wait  for  him. 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER 

fi 

HALL  flowers  come  first,  or  leaves? 
The  red  maple  said  flowers;  the  lo- 
cust, leaves ;  while  the  beech  suggested 
both. 

The  trees  reviewed  their  wardrobes 
of  velvet  or  varnished  buds,  where  spring 
clothes  had  been  packed  away  ever  since 
last  year,  ready  for  the  time  when  they  wake 
from  their  winter  sleep  and  have  to  get  dressed 
in  a  hurry.  None  but  a  magician  or  Mother 
Nature  could  ever  shake  a  flower-robe  or  leaf- 
frock  from  such  tiny  bundles,  though  mate- 
rial is  tucked  away  in  cell  cubby-holes  to  help 
out  in  the  springtime  dress. 

While  the  trees  were  whispering  together, 
three  girls  met  out  of  doors. 

^^See  the  red  buds  beading  the  silver  maple," 
said  Portia,  the  gray-eyed  girl.    '^Soon  all  the 

53 


54  FOREST  FANCIES 

trees  will  awake  at  the  sunrise  of  spring,  and 
you  will  find  flowers  blooming  where  you  had 
not  thought  there  were  flowers — ^high  up  on 
forest  trees.  We  love  sweet  arbutus  and  vio- 
lets so  well  that  they  seem  all  of  spring;  we 
forget  that  the  alder  is  one  of  the  first  to  hang 
out  the  flag  of  fair  weather,  and  when  we  think 
the  elm  bursting  into  leaf,  we  do  not  know  that 
she  is  adorned  with  little  bells  or  seed  with  sil- 
ver fringe.  Many  flower-banners  will  float  in 
the  bright  air  of  Easter,  as  if  the  victorious 
trees  heard  the  words,  *I  am  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life  I'" 

** Easter!"  echoed  Pearl.  **I  am  so  glad  it 
is  coming,  for  then  I  can  wear  my  pink  and 
white  dress." 

''I  shall  have  a  tan-colored  suit,"  said  Por- 
tia. 

But  Polly  said  nothing,  looking  down  at  her 
plain  little  frock. 

"What  does  *  Easter'  mean?"  she  asked 
presently,  lifting  her  wistful  eyes  to  Portia's 
face. 
/*0h,  *  Easter'  means  that  it  is  time  to  put 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  55 

off  old  winter  clothes  and  wear  something  new 
and  pretty  I"  cried  Pearl,  smoothing  out  her 
dainty  skirt.  *'It  comes  in  the  spring,  just 
the  right  time." 

'^When  Easter  comes,"  replied  Portia,  '*I 
will  tell  you  its  true  meaning." 

And  then  they  parted,  Portia  and  Pearl  re- 
turning to  the  big  house  on  the  hill,  while  lit- 
tle Polly  took  the  path  through  the  wood  and 
over  the  field  to  her  humble  home. 

When  the  girls  had  left  the  lawn,  the  sil- 
ver maple  said,  *^Did  you  hear  them  say 
what  they  would  wear  on  Easter?  One  said 
that  it  was  the  day  to  put  on  new  spring 
clothes." 

"Then  we,  too,  must  prepare  for  Easter," 
replied  the  little  dogwood.  *^Our  fashion  of 
flowers  is  much  prettier  than  theirs,  and  per- 
haps I  shall  look  as  fair  as  the  girl  with  the 
apple-blossom  face. ' ' 

'^That  reminds  me,"  said  the  beech,  "that 
the  orchard  trees  will  put  on  their  pink  and 
white  frocks  before  long.  Who  then  will  think 
to  look  at  us  1" 


56  FOREST  FANCIES 

*^The  robin  will,''  answered  the  elm. 

**And  the  bee,"  echoed  the  linden. 

*^Let  us  get  ready  for  Easter,"  said  the  Nor- 
way maple,  *^and  the  robin  will  tell  which  one 
has  done  the  best.  Of  course,  we  cannot  com- 
pete with  the  orchard  trees;  they  have  their 
fashions,  and  we  have  ours." 

'^However,"  said  the  elm  thoughtfully,  *^it 
is  the  one  beautiful,  sweet  fashion  of  flow- 
ers." 

'* Flowers,  flowers,  flowers  I"  echoed  every 
tree.  **What  shall  I  wear — flowers  with  sta- 
mens, flowers  with  pistils,  or  flowers  with  sta- 
mens and  pistils  both?" 

For  stamens  carry  the  pollen-powder  atop, 
while  pistils  bear  seed  at  their  base,  and  some- 
times one  tree  will  wear  only  gold  powder,  the 
other  pendants  of  seed. 

Down  by  the  stream  the  willows  were  bud- 
ding. 

**I  intend  to  wear  my  furs  on  Easter,"  de- 
clared the  pussy  willow.  * '  Easters  are  so  often 
cold,  and  I  have  such  pretty  gray  furs." 

So  he  started  spring  fashions  with  bursting 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  57 

bud  of  red-brown  scales,  and  soon  was  snug  in 
silvery  fur. 

**You  look  very  nice,"  commented  the  white 
birch,  *  though  I  fear  you  were  in  too  much  of 
a  hurry ;  your  furs  are  changing  color,  and  will 
be  a  bit  shabby  by  Easter.'' 

For  yellow  stamens  were  pricking  out 
through  the  down  like  so  many  bright  pins, 
and  when  the  bees  had  carried  their  gold-dust 
to  the  green  pistils  of  the  willow  across  the 
brook,  the  silky  fur  looked  decidedly  moth- 
eaten. 

**Ah,  well,"  sighed  the  pussy  willow,  ^^I 
have  started  things,  anyway." 

His  neighbor,  the  alder,  flung  out  her  long 
jeweled  tassels  of  russet  and  old-gold. 

*^I  shall  save  my  flowers  for  the  golden 
days,"  said  the  tulip-tree. 

*^Not  I,"  replied  the  alder,  tipping  her 
branches  with  tiny  cones ;  and  she  fluttered  her 
flag  over  the  brook,  scattering  her  jewels  to 
the  wind. 

Meanwhile,  the  silver  maple  eagerly  opened 
her  garnet  buds.    Some  branches  she  feathered 


58  FOREST  FANCIES 

with  stamens,  greenish-yellow,  with  tips  of 
red ;  others  were  crimson  with  pistils. 

*'  'Tis  airy  attire,"  remarked  the  pussy  wil- 
low, *^for  so  early  in  the  year.'' 

**0h,  but  I  am  a  bit  of  the  springtime  1" 
How  fair  she  looked  through  her  veil  of  flow- 
ers. **We  don't  want  winter  fashions  now, 
with  comfy  furs." 

'*So,  so!"  suddenly  sang  the  snow,  and  be- 
fore she  knew  it,  she  was  muffled  in  white  from 
top  to  root. 

** Cheer  up!"  called  the  red  maple  gaily, 
flaming  into  crimson  and  coral  flowers.  **My 
heart  is  on  fire  with  spring !  Let  us  be  glad, 
glad,  glad!" 

**Are  we  not  glad!"  And  the  elm,  flushing 
with  joy,  burst  into  a  million  little  bells  with 
ruby  clappers.  A  beautiful  tune  drifted 
down,  like  the  sunrise  anthem  of  the  year.  The 
laggard  trees  heard  it,  and  began  to  stir. 

But  the  white  poplar  was  already  awake. 

**For  real  comfort  on  a  cool  spring  day," 
he  said  pompously,  **look  at  me." 

For  while  his  mate  was  uncurling  her  green 


THE   WHITE   POPLAR   WAS   ALREADY   AWAKE 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  59 

catkins,  he  had  clothed  himself  in  chenille  tas- 
sels— each  a  string  of  tiny  brown  fans  with 
pointed  edges  and  silver  fringes,  with  rosy 
clusters  between — and  hid  his  pale  bark  under 
a  mantle  of  ashes-of-roses.  However,  the 
wind,  shaking  the  pollen  from  the  bright  sta- 
mens, cried,  ^'  'Pride  must  have  a  fall!'  "  and 
tore  the  tassels  to  tatters;  so  the  poplars  put 
on  leaves  lined  with  white  flannel,  which  later 
turned  to  a  silver  lining. 

Their  cousin,  the  cottonwood,  bore  a  tas- 
seled  banner  of  russet-red ;  though  the  vandal 
wind  waved  the  bright  banner  too  well,  and  all 
too  soon  Captain  Cottonwood  mourned  his  col- 
ors lying  strewn  upon  the  ground.  But  Mrs. 
Cottonwood  was  now  stringing  her  emerald 
necklaces,  and  both  dressed  up  in  glossy 
leaves,  which  rustled  in  the  wind  like  silken 
skirts. 

Every  morning  some  tree,  adding  a  new 
flower  to  the  spring,  would  ask,  *'Has  Easter 
come?" 

They  were  very  busy,  whispering  and  plan- 
ning and  working  together,  deciding  on  pretty 


60  FOREST  FANCIES 

designs  and  choosing  becoming  colors,  and  no 
little  maid  was  ever  more  interested  in  her 
spring  frock.  Yet  after  all  this  talk  and 
trouble,  each  tree  chose  the  pattern  that  her 
mother  used  to  wear,  who  had  dressed  as  her 
mother  dressed,  and  the  pretty  and  varied 
styles  at  last  ready  for  Easter  were  nothing 
new  at  all,  for  each  fresh  and  smiling  tree 
wore  exactly  the  same  sweet  flowered  pattern 
that  her  great-great-grandmother  wore  ever 
so  many  Easters  ago. 

So  Easter  morning  came,  and  when  Polly 
had  brightened  her  old  dark-green  dress  with 
a  new  ribbon,  she  ran  out  of  the  gate  and  over 
the  field,  through  the  wood,  to  the  home  of  Por- 
tia and  Pearl.  The  carriage  was  at  the 
door. 

**We  are  going  to  church,"  said  Portia. 
^'Run  back,  little  Polly,  and  put  on  your  best 
dress." 

But  Polly  had  no  best  dress.  She  had  hoped 
they  would  take  her  as  she  was,  though  when 
she  saw  Portia's  tan  suit  and  Pearl's  pink 
freshness,  she  knew  how  plain  was  her  own 


THE   COTTONWOOD 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  61 

dark  frock,  as  plain  as  that  of  the  little  ever- 
green tree  near  by. 

**I  will  keep  church  in  the  woods/'  she  said, 
smiling;  *^but  when  you  come  back,  Portia, 
you  must  tell  us  what  Easter  means." 

Then  Portia  and  Pearl  and  their  pretty 
mamma,  like  bright  flowers  looking  forth  from 
the  dark  winter  bud,  nodded  to  Polly  as  they 
wheeled  away. 

But  at  the  gate  the  mother  said,  ^^Stop,  and 
let  us  take  Polly,  too.'' 

*'She  is  not  dressed  for  church,"  sighed 
Pearl. 

The  mother  replied,  '* Polly,  not  Polly's 
dress,  would  see  and  hear  and  enjoy." 

But  Polly  did  not  answer  their  call ;  she  was 
huddled  behind  the  fir  tree,  so  like  herself  in 
its  shabby  green;  though  when  she  could  no 
longer  hear  the  lively  wheels,  down  she  tum- 
bled in  a  little  heap  upon  the  ground  and  hid 
her  face  in  the  grass.  Then,  swallowing  some- 
thing very  like  a  lump,  she  rubbed  her  blue 
eyes  red,  looked  up,  and  saw 

Yes,  it  was   Spring,   though  Polly  never 


62  FOREST  FANCIES 

would  have  guessed  if  something  had  not  told 
her;  for  Spring  was  not  dressed  in  green. 
Through  a  silvery  veil  her  yellow  robe  was  all 
a-flutter  with  rosy  ribbon  caught  up  with  coral 
clasps ;  only  her  sandals  were  green. 

*^Wake  up,  Polly  I"  called  Spring. 

**  Wake  up,  wake  up  I"  echoed  the  robin. 

But  Polly  was  not  asleep,  though  you  are 
sure  to  think  her  dreaming.  For  miles  aroimd 
all  had  gone  to  church,  so  nobody  saw  what 
befell  Polly  when  Spring  came  coaxing. 

The  robin  interrupted  them.  **It  is  time/' 
said  he,  *Ho  judge  which  tree  is  fairest." 

*^Dear  me,''  sighed  Spring,  ^Hhose  that  are 
not  so  very  pretty  will  blame  me.  Still,  there 
is  a  nice  variety,  don't  you  think  so?  Sum- 
mer's wardrobe  is  only  a  green  uniform,  while 
mine  is  like  the  soft  reflection  of  autunmal 
hues.  Yet  tell  me,  Polly,  how  should  you  look 
at  the  flowers  of  the  trees  to  find  out  how  beau- 
tiful they  are?" 

^^  Through  a  magnifying-glass,"  said  Polly 
promptly. 

Spring  laughed.    '^Even  so.    I  was  going  to 


THE   BOXELDER   WAS   CxREEN 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  63 

say,  with  the  eyes  of  love,  but  you  have  popped 
an  idea  into  my  head:  I  will  turn  you  into  a 
magnif ying-glass. ' ' 

Polly  looked  uneasy,  pinching  her  chubby 
arm  to  see  whether  she  was  a  little  girl  or  a 
microscope. 

**When  you  are  a  magnif  ying-glass,"  con- 
tinued Spring,  **you  and  the  robin  and  the  bee 
shall  be  the  three  judges  to  tell  which  tree  is 
fairest." 

Then  Spring  summoned  a  bee,  and  presto  1 
before  Polly  knew  it,  she  was  no  bigger  than 
a  bumblebee  herself,  sitting  like  a  fairy  queen 
between  the  wings  of  her  new  friend — quite 
safe  from  the  sting-end,  she  was  sure. 

Up,  up  flew  Polly  and  the  bee,  straight  to  the 
silver  maple.  But  the  silver  maple  had  lost 
her  flowers,  and  in  their  place  winged  seed 
hung  like  katydids  under  a  flock  of  butterfly 
leaves. 

The  flowers  of  the  red  maple,  too,  had  burned 
out,  though  all  her  seed  were  winged  with 
flame. 

Their   sister,   the   boxelder,   not   so   eager 


64  FOREST  FANCIES 

to  bloom,  had  forgotten  to  pull  out  the  old 
brown  bastings  of  last  year's  gown. 

^^How  untidy!''  thought  Polly,  remember- 
ing. 

However,  the  boxelder  was  green  with  leafy 
sprays  and  threadlike  flowers,  while  her  com- 
panion shimmered  with  silken  tassels. 

^^They  are  beautiful,  like  floss,"  cried 
Polly. 

^'But  remind  me  of  lovely  cornsilk,"  said 
the  bee. 

**Hush,"  breathed  Polly,  in  a-flutter,  ^^and 
listen  to  the  music." 

*' Perhaps  it  is  my  buzzing  that  you  hear," 
modestly  returned  the  bee. 

'*No,  no,"  cried  Polly,  clapping  her  hands 
and  nearly  sliding  from  the  velvet  back,  **it 
is  maple-music!" 

For  the  sugar  maple  was  swinging  out,  on 
silken  strands,  a  lot  of  little  bells  of  sunlit 
green. 

**I  am  clothed  with  Easter  chimes,"  laughed 
she;  ^^hear  the  zephyr  ring  my  bells!" 

**The  very  sweetest  tree,"  spoke  Polly. 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  65 

**0  Polly,  Polly/'  sighed  the  bee,  sadly  shak- 
ing her  head,  **I  fear  you  have  a  fondness  for 
maple  sugar." 

**  And  all  the  time,"  retorted  Polly,  **you  are 
thinking  of  honey." 

Which  was  quite  true,  for  the  bee  turned 
nimbly  to  the  Norway  maple. 

The  Norway  maple,  a  shining  green,  was 
dappled  all  over  with  clusters  of  stars. 

*^My  stars  radiate  the  joy  of  the  spring- 
time," she  breathed. 

^*  'Tis  true,"  declared  Polly,  inhaling  her 
perfumed  breath,  ^*and  you  are  the  sweetest  of 
all!" 

**You  know  she  is  a  foreigner,"  whispered 
the  bee,  flying  to  the  American  elm. 

** After  all,"  said  the  elm,  *^back  of  a  smile 
lies  the  thought;  and  beyond  the  beauty  of  a 
flower  lies  its  meaning,  the  seed." 

*'The  elm  is  apologizing  for  her  seedy  gar- 
ment," said  the  horsechestnut  bluntly. 

For  the  elm  was  covered  with  green  samaras, 
each  encircled  by  a  gauzy  wing,  notched  at  the 
end  and  trimmed  with  silver  f rino-e. 


66  FOREST  FANCIES 

**What  beautiful  bangles!"  was  Polly's 
thought. 

The  bee  now  flew  down  to  the  brook,  where 
the  white  birch,  veiling  her  pearly  bark  in 
green,  was  swinging  her  tassels  of  bronze  and 
gold  and  studding  her  branches  with  emerald 
pins. 

^^Oh,  the  pretty,  pretty  birch,"  bubbled 
Polly,  *'how  modestly  she  bends  her  head." 

'^Gazing  at  her  reflection  in  the  water,"  re- 
marked her  friend,  turning  to  the  silvery 
beauty  of  the  beech  tree. 

The  beech  was  unfurling  her  silky  fans  from 
their  tortoiseshell  cases  and  pricking  her  fluffy 
balls  with  green. 

^*I  came  near  forgetting  this,"  she  said, 
tucking  a  little  nut-flower  near  the  tip  of  a 
branch. 

**We  are  so  glad  that  Easter  is  late  this 
year,"  said  the  ash  trees,  putting  on  their 
green  and  purple  plumes. 

*^ However,  I  had  to  hurry  more  than  usual,'* 
exclaimed  the  white  oak,  *^in  order  to  take 
charge  of  the  services,'^ 


EASTER   CHIMES 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  67 

And  lo,  the  oak  was  clothed  in  fairy  velvet 
vestments  of  pink  and  misty  green,  veiled  in 
a  shimmer  of  silver  down  and  fringed  with 
beaded  tassels.  Hidden  in  the  axils  of  leaves 
were  tiny  round  flowers,  which  would  be 
acorns  when  velvet  and  fringes  and  silver 
sheen  were  only  a  memory  of  the  pomp  and 
glory  of  spring. 

*^Are  you  ready,  are  you  ready?"  called  the 
robin. 

*^0h,  please  wait  till  I  finish  my  surplice  1" 
cried  the  little  dogwood,  unfolding  another 
large  white  rosette. 

''  'Button,  button,  who's  got  the  button?'  " 
laughed  the  mottled  sycamore,  dangling  her 
red  and  green  balls. 

But  the  bee  had  paused  on  her  wanderings, 
well  repaid  by  stolen  sips  of  honey. 

''Alas,"  exclaimed  the  horsechestnut,  "my 
candles  are  not  lighted  I" 

"And  my  white  garlands  are  not  ready  1" 
lamented  the  locust. 

"Nor  are  my  golden  chalices!"  echoed  the 
tulip-tree. 


68  FOREST  FANCIES 

**A11  too  late,"  the  linden  sighed,  ''all  too 
late  I  shall  swing  my  ivory  censers !" 

"And  I  bear  my  altar  flowers!"  cried  the 
catalpa. 

''Kind  thoughts  are  the  true  flowers  of  life," 
said  the  elm. 

"Children,"  said  the  oak,  "our  bright  spring 
raiment  is  fleeting,  like  the  flush  of  dawn ;  our 
true  and  enduring  beauty  lies  in  the  use  for 
which  this  is  but  a  joyful  preparation." 

Then  all  the  trees  in  their  fair  attire,  a  con- 
gregation adorned  for  the  Day,  listened  to  the 
pontiff  oak. 


While  flower-bells  were  ringing, 
And  perfumed  censers  swung, 

The  oak  spoke  from  his  pulpit, 
With  shining  tassels  hung. 


Wood  thrush  and  bluebird  formed  the  choir ; 
and  the  robin  sounded  the  note  that  services 
were  to  begin — nay,  were  to  continue,  for  they 
had  begun  long  ago,  when  the  first  bud  had 
expanded  and  unfolded  at  the  matin  bell  of 
spring. 


THE    WHITE    BIRCH    AND    THE    BEECH    TREE 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  69 


((' 


We  greet  the  year  adorned  with  flowers, '^ 
continued  the  oak.  '*Let  none  envy  another, 
for  remember  that  'One  star  differ eth  from 
another  in  glory.'  All  help  to  make  the  sea- 
son sweet,  from  the  first  gray  catkin  of  the  wil- 
low to  the  golden  crown  of  chestnut  bloom. 
We  silently  mark  the  passing  of  the  bright 
hours  of  spring,  and  all  who  have  not  learned 
to  tell  the  time  of  year  by  our  flower-dial  have 
bent  their  eyes  too  much  upon  the  ground. 
When  they  learn  to  look  up,  they  will  find  the 
trees  telling  how  sweetly  pass  the  sunlit  hours, 
and  will  know  that  there  is  a  benediction  of 
flowers  above  their  heads  as  well  as  flowers 
upon  the  ground  crushed  by  their  feet.  Who 
that  looks  upon  a  tree  adorned  for  the  spring, 
can  but ' Consider  the  lilies'  ?  It  is  not  vanity, 
but  love,  that  clothes  us,  for  we  are  making  the 
earth  beautiful  for  all,  and  consecrating  our- 
selves to  another  year  of  usefulness." 

As  the  oak  paused,  the  robin  repeated  the 
praise  of  all  the  trees,  and  well  he  might,  for 
where  else  could  be  found  so  fair  a  company  ? 

The  robin  is  right,"  said  Spring.    ^'I  love 


ii\ 


^0  FOREST  FANCIES 

them  all,  and  find  each  in  her  own  way  beau- 
tiful." 

'^Yes,  I,  for  one,  cannot  choose  the  prettiest 
tree,  for  I,  too,  love  them  all!"  cried  the  bee, 
and  dived  right  into  the  heart  of  a  violet — 
forgetful  of  Polly  upon  her  back,  who  was 
brushed  off  and  bumped  upon  the  ground. 

There  she  sat,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  looking 
about  her,  grown  big  again  and  just  the  same 
Polly  that  she  ever  was,  and  were  it  not  for 
the  pollen  on  her  dress,  she  might  have  thought 
it  all  a  dream — though  she  was  rolling  among 
the  dandelions,  it  is  true. 

There  was  the  sound  of  wheels  upon  the 
road,  and  here  were  Portia  and  Pearl. 

But  where  was  Spring?  Everywhere — ^lips 
laughing  from  rosy  buds,  cheeks  glowing 
from  ruddy  leaves,  hair  shining  in  yellow 
catkins. 

^^O  Polly,  PoUy!"  laughed  Pearl  and  Por- 
tia, running  up. 

**I  don't  care,"  said  Polly,  jumping  up  and 
shaking  herself  out  from  her  tangle,  *^the  bee 
knocked  me  right  over." 


A  SYLVAN  EASTER  71 

''O  Polly,  silly,  silly  Polly,''  sighed  Portia, 
"dreaming  of  bumblebees." 

''I'm  not  silly,"  declared  Polly,  ''and  if  you 
had  heard  what  the  oak  was  preaching,  you'd 
be  as  wise  as  I  am  now.  As  for  the  bee — oh, 
there  she  goes  I" 

Then  Polly  smiled  to  herself  as  she  settled 
down  under  the  sunrise  oak,  clasping  in  her 
chubby  hand  the  lily  which  they  had  brought 
her,  while  Portia  told  the  real  meaning  of 
Easter. 

"Easter  is  our  awakening  into  a  new  and 
higher  life.  We  may  lay  aside  old  garments 
of  the  mind,  as  we  do  of  the  body,  and  clothe 
ourselves  with  a  new  spirit ;  for  the  true  Easter 
adornment  is  within,  of  which  the  outer  orna- 
ment is  but  a  symbol.  So  on  this  Easter  Day 
let  us  blossom  into  a  better,  brighter  life  and 
show  the  Divinity  within,  even  as  the  trees  are 
showing  that  hidden  within  them  lies  the 
power  to  burst  hard  buds  and  proclaim  with 
flower  and  leaf  that  life  of  which  winter  could 
not  rob  them,  which  is  one  Life,  one  Thought 


DOGWOOD  IN  BLOOM 

Oh,  cold  was  my  shift  in  winter! 

Oh,  white  was  my  shroud  of  snow ! 
Nay,  soft  was  my  robe  of  slumber, 

For  I  was  asleep,  you  know. 

You  carved  of  the  ice  my  casket 

0  cradle  of  crystal  light ! 

While  roughly  the  wind  was  rocking, 

1  dreamed  to  my  heart 's  delight. 

Old  Boreas'  blowing  bore  you 
The  dolor  of  dirge  and  sigh: 

The  wind  all  the  while  was  whistling 
My  sleepytime  lullaby. 

You  saw  in  the  frost  enamel 
The  seal  of  the  silent  hours : 

The  frost  that  impearled  my  branches 
Was  only  my  dream  of  flowers ! 

Whatever  the  thrall  of  winter. 
Whatever  the  thought  it  bring, 

I  weave  from  that  pall  of  whiteness 
The  surplice  I  wear  in  spring ! 

The  soul  of  the  marble  statue, 

Though  chiseled  in  storm  and  strife, 

I  wake  to  the  truth  I  dreamed  of 

The  beauty  and  joy  of  life ! 


72 


THE   POiMP  AND   GLORY   OF    SPRING 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  OF 
JONSBODA 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  OF  JONSBODA 

HERE  was  once  a  large  and  beau- 
tiful linden-tree,  for  which  tradi- 
tion had  won  the  name  of  the 
Holy  Tree.  For  many  years, 
longer  than  anyone  could  remem- 
ber, it  had  stood  on  a  farm  in  Jonsboda, 
Smaland,  in  the  south  of  Sweden.  Misfortune 
w^ould  surely  follow  him  who  harmed  the 
tree;  so,  safeguarded  by  adoration  and  fear, 
in  the  seventeenth  century  it  still  lived  on  the 
farm  of  Ingemar  Svenson,  a  real  family  tree. 
Under  the  heavy  shade  played  Ingemar 's 
three  children,  repeating  the  traditions  that 
they  had  heard  about  it,  and  loving  it  for  the 
sake  of  these  stories,  for  the  kind  shelter  of 
its  heart-shaped  leaves,  and  for  the  sweetness 
of  its  summer  bloom. 

The  three  children  grew  up,  loving  the  tree 
75 


76  FOREST  FANCIES 

as  naturally  as  they  loved  one  another.  Yet 
to  Ingemar's  little  daughter  there  often  came 
a  dream  of  the  linden-tree;  her  ears  seemed 
to  catch  a  voice  when  the  wind  stirred  its  leafy 
boughs,  and  her  eyes  saw  more  than  creamy 
petals  in  the  sweet  surprise  of  scented  flowers. 
Always  her  dream  filled  her  heart  when  the  lin- 
den flowers  were  budding — a  dream  that  came 
she  knew  not  whence,  a  dream  of  something 
that  the  linden-tree  was  trying  to  tell  with  un- 
folding flower,  until  the  secret  was  lost  in  the 
very  sweetness  of  its  breath. 

Her  two  brothers  studied  for  the  priest- 
hood. Instead  of  being  called  Carl  and  Sven 
Ingemarson  (son  of  Ingemar),  they  chose  a 
new  surname,  right  from  the  family  tree. 
Tilia^  the  linden-tree's  classical  name,  and 
andros,  Greek  for  man,  gave  them  Tiliander 
— ^linden-tree  man. 

But  the  old  linden-tree,  not  content  to  name 
the  boys,  whispered  something  to  Ingemar 's 
daughter,  and  repeated  it  on  her  wedding  day. 
She  married  a  farmer,  Ingemar  Bengtson,  and 
they  had  one  son,  named  Nils. 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  77 

When  Nils  studied  for  the  priesthood  and 
looked  for  a  surname,  the  linden-tree  named 
him  Linnaeus.  There  was  another  linden  fam- 
ily name — Lindelius.  The  linden-tree  had 
three  branches,  one  for  each  linden  name,  and 
it  was  said  that  when  the  last  male  heir  to  each 
name  died,  one  branch  withered  and  was  no 
more. 

The  day  that  the  linden  named  young  Nils 
was  a  proud  day  for  the  old  tree.  Yet  what 
was  the  message  that  the  linden  had  given 
Ingemar 's  daughter  ?  She  was  a  mother  now ; 
and  her  son  heard  the  same  faint  message, 
wondering  what  the  linden-tree's  meaning  to 
the  family  was,  beyond  a  name. 

There  was  a  beautiful  garden  at  the  parson- 
age of  Sven  Tiliander,  where  Nils  studied  with 
his  cousins,  and  when  Nils  was  pastor  at 
Rashult  he  also  had  a  garden  of  wonderful 
plants.  His  young  wife,  Christina,  from  the 
barren  north,  dearly  loved  these  southern  flow- 
ers, and  eagerly  welcomed  signs  of  spring. 

Meanwhile  the  old  homestead  linden  was 
opening  coral  buds  and  unfolding  emerald 


78  FOREST  FANCIES 

leaves.  Under  the  leaves  grew  long  apple- 
green  bracts  and  from  the  center  of  each  feath- 
er-shaped bract  hung  a  spray  of  little  round 
buds,  swelling  in  the  softening  air,  growing 
larger  and  fairer  day  by  day.  But  on  the 
twenty-third  of  May,  in  the  year  1707,  long 
before  these  buds  were  ready  to  burst  into  pale 
blossoms,  the  wind  brought  the  old  linden-tree 
word  from  Rashult  that  a  new  flower  had 
bloomed  and  lay  on  the  breast  of  Christina. 

The  child  was  named  Carl.  His  father 
decked  his  cradle  with  flowers,  his  mother 
would  quiet  him  with  a  blossom. 

By-and-by  the  family,  and  the  family  flow- 
ers, all  moved  to  the  beautiful  parish  of  Stren- 
brohult,  and  in  the  new  garden  little  Carl 
learned  to  walk.  Soon  he  was  talking  to 
the  flowers :  Did  not  they,  too,  have  their  faces 
washed?  The  dew  did  it,  and  the  sun  dried 
them  and  kissed  them  and  told  them  to  be 
good.  He  was  called  Carl;  they  also  had 
names.  They  were  always  dressed  the  same, 
but  did  they  think  he  was  another  little  boy 
every  time  he  wore  a  different  dress  ?  If  he  had 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  79 

a  flower-bed  all  his  own,  he  was  sure  that  his 
flowers  would  always  know  him,  as  he  knew 
them;  so  his  mother  and  father,  who  were  just 
like  all  mothers  and  fathers,  let  Carl  have  his 
own  little  plot,  which  contained  one  specimen 
of  all  that  grew  in  the  garden. 

One  day  Carl  went  to  a  country  fair,  and  in 
the  evening  a  little  group  sat  around  upon  the 
grass  while  his  father  told  the  folk  all  about 
their  neighbors,  the  native  plants — not  know- 
ing what  trouble  he  was  storing  up  for  him- 
self;  for  ^^ Little  pitchers  have  big  ears,''  and 
Carl  sat  very  quiet,  listening  with  all  his  might. 
Afterwards,  it  was  ^* Father,  this,"  and  *^ Fath- 
er, that,"  until  Father  could  tell  no  more. 
When  Carl  failed  to  remember  the  answers, 
his  father  would  preach  a. little  sermon  to  a 
small  and  select  audience  of  one,  to  the  end 
that  there  must  be  no  more  questions  until 
answers  were  remembered,  and  this,  perhaps, 
was  as  good  a  lesson  as  one  in  botany. 

Carl  loved  to  wander  through  field  and 
wood,  where  he  found  plants  to  press,  or  to 
plant  in  the  little  plot  now  known  as  ** Carl's 


80  FOREST  FANCIES 

garden. ' '  But  while  his  wild  plants  were  over- 
running the  family  garden,  and  the  wild  bees 
that  he  brought  home  were  besieging  the  do- 
mestic hives,  his  mother  was  busily  planning 
the  future  of  her  ^* Little  Botany  Boy."  She 
chose  him  for  the  church.  There  is  a  story 
told*  of  how  one  day  his  mother  found  him 
Avith  the  loved  family  Bible,  and  her  heart 
bounded  with  joy  that  her  long-cherished 
dream  might  come  true ;  but  no,  he  was  press- 
ing some  new-found  flowers  therein. 

^^  ^Dear  child,'  she  said,  *you  must  not  put 
herbs  and  flowers  in  my  beautiful  book.  It 
would  be  quite  a  sin  to  spoil  the  Holy  Bible.' 

**  'Pray  forgive  me.  Mother !  But  these  are 
the  most  beautiful  flowers  I  have  ever  seen,  so 
I  thought  I  would  preserve  them  best  of  all, 
for  I  have  heard  both  you  and  Father  say  that 
the  Bible  is  the  Book  of  Life;  and  surely,  if 
I  put  the  flowers  between  its  leaves,  they  will 
retain  their  color,  the  Bible  keeping  them  alive 
forever.' 


**The  Floral  King,''  by  Albert  Alberg. 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  81 

^^  *  Child,  when  we  call  the  Bible  the  Book 
of  Life,  we  mean  by  that,  not  the  life  we  see 
before  us,  but  the  spiritual  growth  of  our 
souls,  for  every  thought  we  think  is  a  flower 
culled  in  the  garden  of  our  soul.  There,  as  on 
earth,  grow  many  various  plants,  some  of 
wondrous  beauty,  and  others  stained  with  sin. 
But  every  time  we  humbly  read  in  the  Sacred 
Writ,  a  seed  is  sown  in  our  heart,  which  some 
day  will  bloom,  and  bear  holy  fruit.' 

*'  'How  beautifully  you  talk.  Mother!' 

*'  'Well,  you  must  diligently  read  your 
Bible,  and  in  your  heart  will  grow  the  seed 
of  goodness  and  humility;  but  I  fear ' 

"  'What  do  you  fear,  Mother?' 

*'  'I  fear  you  love  the  fair  flowers  of  the 
earth  too  much  to  care  for  the  seeds  that  were 
watered  with  tears  in  the  Garden  of  Gethse- 
mane.' 

**  '0  Mother,  no,  I  won't  forget  my  Bible. 
But  when  I  see  a  flower  I  think  this  way. 
Why  does  God  make  the  cold,  damp  earth 
grow  such  lovely  creatures  with  such  beauti- 
ful colors?    Why,  if  not  to  make  us  happy 


82  FOREST  FANCIES 

with  the  sight  ?  And  then  I  fancy  the  flowers 
saying  with  their  petaled  lips,  **Look  at  us, 
and  think  how  kind  and  good  is  God."  O 
Mother,  every  flower  must  have  been  a  thought 
of  God.' 

«  *Why,  how  you  speak,  child!    Well,  yes 
you  are  right,  it  must  be  so.'  " 

But  Carl  was  now  a  big  boy — eight  years  old 
— ^high  time  that  he  gave  his  thoughts  to  seri- 
ous study,  so  for  two  years  he  suffered  under  a 
tutor.  Then  one  day  his  mother  tearfully 
packed  his  little  belongings,  and  started  him 
off  to  school  at  Wexio,  where  at  the  end  of 
eight  years  his  teachers  said,  *' Apprentice  him 
to  a  shoemaker."  He  was  only  bright  in  nat- 
ural history — ^though  w"hat  had  this  to  do  with 
shoes? 

Now  this  was  not  at  all  encouraging.  Carl 
was  the  eldest  of  five  children,  and  his  father 
felt  sorely  perplexed.  He  stopped  in  to  see 
Dr.  Rothman,  in  Wexio,  and  told  him  what 
troubled  his  mind  as  well  as  what  troubled  his 
body — ^the  very  best  thing  that  he  could  have 
done. 


THE   SWEETNESS   OF   ITS   SUMMER   BLOOM 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  83 

"I  guess  that  that  is  really  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you/'  the  Wexio  doctor  said,  ^^ While 
as  for  the  boy — well,  it  isn't  such  a  bad  S3rmp- 
tom  for  him  to  love  natural  history.  Send  him 
to  me.    I'll  turn  him  into  a  doctor." 

And  he  offered  to  provide  for  him,  if  his 
father  could  not,  while  he  finished  his  course 
at  the  ** Gymnasium"  or  Latin  school.  And  so 
Carl  found  his  first  fairy  godfather.  For  one 
good,  glad  year  he  studied  under  Dr.  Roth- 
man,  and  then  he  was  ready  for  the  University 
of  Lund. 

^*Ah,  it  is  all  very  well,"  sighed  his  mother, 
when  they  told  her  that  her  first-born  was  not 
to  serve  God  through  the  church.  ^^Ah,  yes," 
and  she  glanced  at  Samuel,  her  second  son, 
*^But  he  shall  not  waste  his  time  on  so  idle 
a  study  as  herbs  and  flowers!" 

Carl  started  to  Lund  with  this  letter  of 
recommendation  from  the  Wexio  school : 

*^The  youths  in  schools  may  be  likened  unto 
young  saplings  in  a  plantation,  where  it  some- 
times happens,  although  seldom,  that  young 
trees,  despite  the  great  care  bestowed  upon 


84  FOREST  FANCIES 

them,  will  not  improve  by  being  engrafted,  but 
continue  like  wild  untrained  stems,  and  when 
they  are  finally  removed  and  transplanted, 
they  change  their  wild  nature,  and  become 
beautiful  trees  that  bear  excellent  fruit.  In 
which  this  respect,  and  no  other,  this  youth  is 
now  promoted  to  the  University,  where,  per- 
haps, he  may  come  to  a  clime  that  will  favor 
his  further  development." 

At  Lund  Carl  lodged  with  Dr.  Stobaeus.  Dr. 
Stobseus  had  a  fine  museum  and  a  library  from 
which  a  fellow  student  secretly  lent  Carl  books. 

Now  the  good  old  mother  of  Dr.  Stobaeus, 
who  was  infirm  and  ailing  and  not  inclined  to 
sleep,  knew  that  something  was  wrong.  Could 
she  not  see  a  light  burning  in  young  Linnaeus' 
room  long  after  a  youth  of  twenty  should  be 
in  bed?  *^We  are  flying  in  the  face  of  Provi- 
dence," she  told  her  son,  ^^and  inviting 
fire." 

He  promised,  in  his  old-time,  obedient  way, 
to  quiet  her  fears  by  investigating  their  cause. 
So  one  night,  at  two  o'clock,  he  stole  softly  up 
to  Carl's  room — and  was  himself  taken  by  sur- 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  85 

prise.  There  sat  Carl — surrounded  by  big 
books  of  botany. 

^^  Young  man/'  the  doctor  sternly  asked,  tap- 
ping the  truant  books,  ^^  where  did  you  get 
these?" 

Carl  confessed. 

*^Well,  well,  well,"  the  doctor  growled. 
**And  now,  young  man,  go  to  bed." 

Early  in  the  morning.  Dr.  Stobaeus  sent  for 
the  culprit,  who  went  with  a  heavy  heart.  But 
there,  sitting  in  the  stern  doctor's  chair,  he 
found  his  second  fairy  godfather.  The  doc- 
tor's museum,  his  library,  and  his  love  were 
Carl's  forevermore.  Yes,  the  lad  was  to  join 
them  at  the  family  table,  too,  and  so  he  became 
as  a  son  in  the  house. 

The  pleasant  school  year  passed  away,  the 
last  at  Lund,  for  when  home  on  his  vaca- 
tion. Dr.  Rothman  said,  ^*Now  you  must  go  to 
Upsala." 

Carl,  the  poor  student,  entered  Upsala,  the 
oldest  seat  of  Swedish  learning,  little  knowing 
the  glory  that  he  was  one  day  to  shed  over  this 
great  University.    It  was  a  daring  leap,  for 


86  FOREST  FANCIES 

coins  were  few  and  meals  came  by  chance.  Yet 
perhaps  he  remembered,  '*  Poverty  is  the  at- 
tendant of  a  good  mind,"  as  he  sat  mending 
his  poor  shoes  with  folded  paper. 

One  day  Carl  went  into  the  University  gar- 
den to  examine  some  plants.  There  he  forgot 
that  he  was  hungry,  he  forgot  his  mended 
shoes.  While  he  was  communing  with  the 
flowers,  an  old  man  entered  the  garden — a 
man  of  note,  he  seemed  to  be.  He  shot  some 
gruff  questions  at  Carl:  ^^What  are  you  doing 
here  ?   Where  did  you  come  f rom ?'' 

Carl  was  so  shabby,  he  did  not  wonder  at  the 
questions. 

*^Are  you  acquainted  with  plants?"  contin- 
ued the  old  man.  *^How  long  have  you  been 
studying?" 

Carl  lifted  his  eyes — dark,  beautiful,  pene- 
trating— from  the  flowers  to  his  questioner, 
and  answered  bravely  and  well.  The  stranger 
looked  surprised — this  poor  youth  displayed 
much  knowledge  of  botany.  And  lo,  to  Carl 
the  garden  suddenly  became  enchanted,  and 
the  old  man  was  transformed  into  his  third 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  87 

fairy   godfather,    who    said,    ^^ Follow   me." 
So  Carl  followed  him  home  and  henceforth 
Dr.  Celsius  was  the  best  loved  of  all  his  fairy; 
godfathers. 

Pupils  now  came  to  Carl.  He  wrote  a  short 
essay  showing  a  new  way  of  classifying  plants, 
and  was  able  to  give  lectures  on  botany. 

After  awhile  it  was  decided  that  Carl  should 
go  on  a  long  and  lonely  journey  to  find  out 
more  about  the  northern  plants.  This  awoke 
the  fears  of  his  mother,  who  urged : 

**In  thine  own  land  live  and  dwell, 
Working  there  with  humble  faith; 
God  will  then  provide  thee  well/' 

Yet  with  a  larger  faith  his  father  wrote: 
^*If  you  think  it  will  lead  to  your  future  ad- 
vancement, then  pray  that  God  may  help  you 
in  this.  He  is  omnipresent,  even  among  the 
desolate  Alps." 

So  Carl  set  out  on  his  wonderful  journey, 
over  mountain,  through  bog,  and  by  boat,  to 
beyond  the  Arctic  Circle.  But  at  last,  after 
five  months  of  mishaps,  he  came  back  safe  and 
sound. 


88  FOREST  FANCIES 

And  now  every  one  wanted  to  hear  him ;  but 
as  he  had  no  big  letters  after  his  name  which 
meant  a  doctor's  degree,  he  had  to  give  up  the 
lectures. 

Nothing  daunted,  Carl  set  out  on  a  little 
journey  to  collect  plants.  One  day  he  stopped 
at  the  house  of  Dr.  Moraeus,  who  had  two 
daughters,  with  one  of  whom  he  straightway 
fell  in  love. 

But  Father  Morseus  said,  **No  degree,  no 
daughter."  So  once  more  Carl  set  out,  and 
though  he  could  not  speak  Dutch,  he  went  to 
Holland,  where  he  won  his  degree  and  found 
his  fourth  fairy  godfather.  George  Cliff ort,  a 
rich  burgomaster,  gave  him  the  care  of  his 
body,  his  gardens,  and  museum.  Carl  lived 
in  luxury,  like  a  son  of  the  house,  published  his 
first  five  books  on  botany,  and  became  famous. 

England,  France,  Holland,  all  wanted  him 
to  stay,  but  he  returned  to  his  cold  northern 
home  to  receive  the  blessing  of  his  father — ^his 
mother  had  not  lived  to  know  the  fame  of 
her  ''Little  Botany  Boy."  In  Stockholm  he 
tacked  up  his  doctor's  sign,  and  hither,  in  the 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  89 

month  of  roses,  he  brought  his  Sara  Lisa. 

At  first  Carl  Linnaeus  found  himself  *^a 
prophet  without  honor  in  his  own  country."  It 
is  true  that  as  a  doctor,  he  was  making  money; 
but  ^^he  was  fonder  of  meddling  with  plants 
than  with  patients. ' '  Still  did  he  long  to  be  *  ^  a 
Priest  of  Flora'';  and  three  years  later,  he 
was  offered  the  Chair  of  Botany  in  Upsala,  in 
which  he  sat  for  thirty  long  and  happy  years, 
lecturing,  and  writing  books  on  plants,  ani- 
mals and  minerals — books  that  made  him  his 
country's  pride. 

When  Carl  began  the  study  of  botany,  he 
found  a  number  of  rather  crude  ways  of  classi- 
fying plants.  He  made  a  new  system  of  plant 
relationship,  based  on  the  pistils  and  stamens 
of  flowers.  He  shortened  the  long  Latin  names, 
giving  each  plant  a  clear,  concise  description. 
He  classified  animals  and  minerals,  too,  and  is 
called  *Hhe  Lawgiver  of  Natural  History." 

Carl  gave  the  University  such  a  name  that 
students  flocked  from  near  and  far.  Science 
showered  him  with  honors,  medals  were  struck 
in  his  name,  and  King  Frederick  made  him  a 


90  FOREST  FANCIES 

Knight  of  the  Polar  Star  and  a  noble  of  the 
land.  He  took  for  his  crest  three  crowns  on 
three  fields,  emblematic  of  the  Three  King- 
doms of  Nature,  the  hemlet  bore  his  favorite 
flower. 

Did  the  old  linden-tree  dream  of  the  honors 
done  one  of  the  linden-named?  Perhaps  the 
wind  or  the  bees  brought  word,  though  the  lin- 
den-tree must  have  known  it  before,  and  that 
was  the  message  that  she  had  been  trying  to 
tell. 

And  so  the  years  passed,  silvering  the  hair 
of  the  ^^Little  Botany  Boy,''  yet  he  ever  kept 
the  brilliant  eyes  and  the  alertness  of  his 
youth,  and  that  love  of  order,  promptness,  and 
regularity  which,  with  unfaltering  faith,  had 
accomplished  his  life  work. 

Then  for  six  years  he  rested  as  an  invalid 
from  his  labors.  Carl,  the  eldest  of  his  six 
children,  sat  in  his  Chair  of  Botany.  When  he 
could  no  longer  walk,  he  would  be  carried  to 
his  museum,  and  the  treasures  that  had  come 
from  the  north  and  the  south  and  the  east  and 
the  west  would  repeat  their  stories  over  and 


THE  LINDEN-TREE  91 

over,  and  again  Carl  would  thank  God  that 
**He  had  permitted  him  to  visit  His  secret 
council  chambers." 

In  the  white  dawn  of  the  year  1778,  when  he 
was  three-score  years  and  ten,  while  the  old 
linden-tree  was  sleeping  and  the  linden  blos- 
soms lived  only  in  the  dreams  of  those  who 
loved  them,  Carl  Linnaeus,  born  with  spring 
flowers,  now  too  restless  to  wait  for  their  sweet 
encouragement,  picked  up  his  staff  once  more 
and  set  out  alone  on  his  last  and  most  wonder- 
ful j  ourney  of  all.  And  so  he  found  his  ^ '  fields 
of  asphodel." 


FOREST   LEAVES 


FOREST  LEAVES 

1. — The  Little  Spruce  Tree 

AR  up  on  a  mountain  a  baby  spruce 
seed  cuddled  with  her  little  sisters, 
two  and  two,  in  a  cone  cradle, 
while  to  the  wind's  Rock-a-by, 
the  mother-tree  swung  them  to  sleep  on  the 
waving  bough.  Yet  all  the  time,  in  the  snug 
darkness,  this  little  seed  lay  wondering  what 
was  outside  of  the  cradle,  for  something  must 
lie  beyond  it,  she  was  sure;  and  one  day,  as 
if  in  answer  to  her  longing  to  know,  the 
wind  loosened  her  scale  coverlet  and  tossed 
her  out,  like  a  young  bird  pushed  from  its  nest 
to  fly. 

Borne  lightly  on  the  wind,  slowly  down, 
down,  down,  she  sailed  through  the  frosty  air, 
with  her  one  gauzy  wing  to  buoy  her  up,  like 

95 


96  FOREST  FANCIES 

hope,  till  far  below,  on  the  slope  of  the  moun- 
tain, a  resting  place  was  found;  and  here, 
weary  from  her  long  way  on  the  wind,  the  little 
seed  laid  her  irrideseent  wing  to  rest  forever- 
more,  and  fell  asleep. 

In  the  very  spot  where  the  little  seed  fell 
asleep,  a  tiny  red  spruce  tree  awoke  with  the 
spring.  The  sunlight  was  tempered  by  the 
sheltering  boughs  of  an  old  black  spruce,  whose 
plainness  was  beautified  by  kindliness  as  she 
said,  **My  daughter,  I  welcome  you  to  the  for- 
est!'' 

And  the  little  tree  looked  up  and  called  her 
'^Mother." 

Lifting  her  pretty  head  still  higher,  the  lit- 
tle spruce  tree  gazed  curiously  around  her  for- 
est home.  *^This  must  be  that  world  which  I 
have  always  longed  to  know,"  thought  she. 
**IIow  green  and  wonderful  it  is;  I  shall  stay 
here  content  forever." 

Forest  neighbors  crowded  the  little  stranger 
on  all  sides ;  and  in  her  heart  she  felt  a  kinship 
with  the  evergreen  trees,  large  and  small. 

**But  who  are  these?"  she  asked,  for  there 


FOREST  LEAVES  97 

were  other  trees,  whose  odd  fashions  she  did 
not  understand. 

**They  are  maples/'  answered  the  black 
spruce. 

Every  autumn,  as  the  changing  seasons  came 
and  went,  the  maple  leaves  flushed  and  fell  to 
the  ground ;  but  in  the  spring  the  buds  on  the 
bare  branches  would  redden  and  part  like  smil- 
ing lips,  until  all  the  maples  were  laughing 
with  bright  flowers.  After  spring  flowers  came 
summer  green,  when  the  little  spruce  tree 
would  glance  ruefully  at  her  old  dress,  worn 
so  many  seasons. 

^^I  should  think,"  said  a  dainty  maple, 
*Hhat  you  would  spruce  up  when  spring 
comes.'' 

So  she  trimmed  the  old  gown  with  new  frills 
of  green,  though  these  made  it  dingy  by  con- 
trast. 

**Do  not  forget,"  the  old  spruce  consoled 
her,  as  the  little  tree  gazed  wistfully  at  the 
bright  new  dresses  of  the  maples,  ''do  not  for- 
get that  all  through  snowtime  you  helped  to 
keep  the  forest  green." 


98  FOREST  FANCIES 


l<- 


'Yes,  I  remember,"  cried  the  little  tree, 
brightening;  ^'and  men  with  horses  and  sleds 
carried  away  many  little  evergreen  trees.  Tell 
me,  where  did  they  go?" 

**Out  into  the  great  world,"  replied  the  old 
spruce. 

«  'The  great  world,'  "  repeated  the  little 
spruce ;  "is  not  this  beautiful  forest  all  ?  Does 
something  still  lie  beyond?" 

** Something  still  lies  beyond,"  answered  the 
old  tree. 

**And  what  do  the  little  evergreen  trees  do 
out  in  the  great  world?" 

"They  gladden  the  hearts  of  children  on 
Christmas  day." 

"Shall  I  ever  ride  out  of  the  forest,  into  the 
heart  of  a  child?"  eagerly  asked  the  little 
tree. 

"Look  as  pretty  as  you  can,  and  perhaps  you 
will  go  on  that  wonderful  ride." 

So  the  little  spruce  tree  grew  like  a  beauti- 
ful green  pyramid ;  yet  every  winter  the  men 
with  sleds  passed  her  by;  and  at  last  the  old 
spruce  said,  "Be  content  to  grow  and  hang 


FOREST  LEAVES  99 

your  boughs  with  cones,  which  will  last  much 
longer  than  the  colored  candles  on  a  Christmas 

tree." 

^*I  will  grow  and  grow  and  grow  till  I  touch 
the  stars  1"  cried  the  little  tree,  and  lifted  her 
head  higher  and  higher  and  grew  so  tall  that 
her  green  garment  no  longer  swept  the 
ground,  for  her  slender  stem  was  like  a  col- 
umn, and  she  wore  her  branches  like  a  crown. 
In  time  no  other  tree  shut  out  the  sunlight  or 
the  sight  of  the  stars. 

''Oh,  if  I  could  reach  you  I"  she  would  cry, 
when  the  snow  lay  deep  about  her  feet  and  the 
stars  sparkled  in  the  sky. 

The  only  music  on  these  winter  nights  was 
the  song  of  the  spruce  trees,  though  sometimes 
the  maples  talked  in  their  sleep  when  the  wind 
jostled  them  too  roughly.  Yet  often  the  little 
spruce  tree  could  hear  another  sound,  like  a 
far-away  call  from  the  valley. 

''What  is  that  in  the  valley,  and  whom  is  it 
calling?''  she  asked. 

"It  is  the  river,"  replied  the  old  spruce, 
"calling  the  trees  to  come." 


100  FOREST  FANCIES 

**The  river?  Where  will  the  river  take  the 
trees?" 

But  the  old  tree  trembled.  ^'It  is  well  to 
abide  in  the  forest,"  said  she,  ''with  a  hundred 
years  of  life." 

**Just  one  more  question,"  said  the  little 
spruce  again;  *'do  the  trees  answer  the  river's 
call?" 

**Grow  taller,"  replied  the  old  tree,  ''and 
you  can  see  for  yourself." 

But  one  day  a  storm  arose,  and  many  spruce 
trees  lost  their  footing  on  the  mountain  side 
and  fell.  The  little  spruce  tree  could  now  see 
the  river,  and  far  beyond  the  valley  to  the  dis- 
tant mountains,  where  other  spruce  trees, 
thousands  of  them,  grew. 

"What  a  wide,  wide  world  I"  she  cried,  and 
at  night  hearkened  no  more  to  the  river,  but 
listened  to  the  ceaseless  song  of  the  spruce 
trees  borne  by  the  wind  across  the  valley. 

"What  are  they  singing?"  she  asked. 

"They  are  restless,"  was  the  reply;  "they 
long  to  dance  to  the  river's  playing.  Heed 
them  not." 


FOREST  LEAVES  101 

But  the  little  spruce  tree  could  not  shut  out 
the  song  of  the  discontented  trees.  She  lis- 
tened to  the  lure  of  the  river,  ''Come,  dance 
with  me  I"  and  their  eager  reply,  ''We  are  com- 
ing, we  are  coming!'' 

And  then  she  saw  that  the  trees  really  did 
go  with  the  river,  for  men  came  and  chopped 
them  down  and  hewed  off  their  branches  and 
floated  them  down  the  current;  and  she  won- 
dered what  that  great  world  was  like  to  which 
the  Christmas  trees  had  gone  and  whither  the 
river  was  hurrying  down  the  valley,  bearing 
with  it  the  spruce  trees  from  the  mountains. 

II.— The  Poet 

One  summer  day  a  young  man  climbed  the 
mountain  side,  wearily,  as  if  weights  were  on 
his  feet,  and  as  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  spruce 
tree,  she  saw  that  his  heart  was  heavy  in  his 
breast. 

"The  mountain  is  not  so  steep,''  she  re- 
proved him,  "that  you  need  drag  yourself  up 
in  that  way." 


102  FOREST  FANCIES 

Though  the  young  man  was  a  pioet,  he  could 
not  understand  the  language  of  a  tree ;  yet  in 
his  soul  he  felt  her  gentle  reproof  and  hastened 
his  lagging  steps. 

'^Come,  rest  under  my  branches,"  she  whis- 
.pered. 

And  this  he  did,  and  for  a  long  while  stood 
gazing  through  the  evergreen  forest  to  the  far 
mountain. 

^^How  fast  the  trees  are  hurrying,"  said  he, 
*  *  out  into  the  world  1 " 

^^What  will  the  trees  do  out  in  the  world?" 
asked  the  spruce  tree  eagerly. 

Still  musingly  he  continued,  *^They  will  bear 
news  to  the  homes  of  men;  I  would  they  might 
bear  my  message  to  the  hearts  of  menl" 

**Do  spruce  trees  bear  news  and  messages 
as  well  as  cones?"  she  questioned. 

His  troubled  eyes  sought  her  murmuring 
boughs,  and  he  listened  to  catch  her  words- 

'^Lie  here  and  rest,"  breathed  the  spruce 
tree;  so  he  cast  himself  upon  the  ground, 
rested  his  head  upon  his  clasped  hands,  and 
gazed  up  into  her  whispering  branches. 


^     13 


FOREST  LEAVES  103 

^*Some  good  fairy  must  have  led  me  to  you, 
beautiful  child  of  the  forest,"  he  said  to  her. 
*'Let  me  talk  to  you  awhile  and  listen  to  what 
you  have  to  tell. 

**Picea — for  is  not  that  your  classical  name  ? 
— Picea,  we  are  alike,  you  and  I ;  you  are  one 
tree  in  a  great  forest,  while  I  am  like  a  tree 
in  a  forest  of  men ;  yet  though  you  are  happy 
and  do  your  part  willingly,  I  am  not  content 
simply  to  serve  in  the  place  where  I  find  my- 
self. 

*' Picea,  if  you  and  I  had  been  cut  off  in  our 
early  days,  you  would  have  been  a  Christmas 
tree  and  I  should  have  been  a  cherub ;  but  we 
have  been  spared  for  some  other  purpose.  Let 
us  hope  that  our  best  use  will  find  us  out. 
Would  you  be  willing  to  go  out  into  the  world 
should  the  world  have  need  of  you?" 

** Should  I  leave  my  green  boughs  behind?" 
she  asked.  ' '  The  little  Christmas  trees  went  as 
they  were." 

**You  would  leave  your  tree-garb  behind," 
He  said,  not  knowing  that  he  answered  her. 

"Picea,  should  you  like  to  bear  the  record 


104  FOREST  FANCIES 

of  Man's  doing  and  undoing  upon  your  white 
bosom?  For  most  spruce  trees  go  forth  into 
the  world  as  paper.  Sometimes  more  than 
twenty  acres  of  the  spruce  sisterhood  are 
changed  into  the  newspaper  of  a  single  day. 
Yet  after  all,  a  newspaper  lives  but  a  day." 

*  *  Only  one  day  I ' '  repeated  Picea.  * '  The  lit- 
tle gauzy  insects  flying  in  the  summer  sun- 
light, live  as  long  as  thatl" 

"A  newspaper  lives  but  a  day,"  he  contin- 
ued, **but  a  good  book  lives  forever!" 

And  her  murmuring  branches  echoed,  **A 
good  book  lives  forever !" 

He  started  at  the  touch  of  a  falling  cone. 

**The  wind  almost  makes  you  talk.  Picea, 
I  am  a  poet,  and  that  is  how  I  know  you 
have  a  soul.  Yes,  I  see  more  than  a  tree  be- 
neath your  brown  bark  and  green  branches: 
I  see  a  friend,  one  who  serves  mankind.  And 
yet,  Picea,  I  love  you  for  yourself  alone,  and 
for  your  message  given  me  this  summer  after- 
noon; for  in  the  restlessness  of  my  life  in  the 
world  I  had  lost  the  faith  which  here  I  have 
found  again — the  faith  that  the  same  Care 


FOREST  LEAVES  105 

that  safely  enfolds  the  spruce  seed  in  the  cone 
until  it  is  time  for  it  to  fly,  and  then  wings  it 
for  flight,  will  guide  us  to  our  best  use.  The 
seed  does  not  question  nor  worry  nor  fear,  but 
obeys  the  wind  that  blows  it  and  the  spring 
that  calls  it  to  awake." 

Taking  a  notebook  from  his  pocket,  he 
wrote: 

If  in  this  form,  a  forest  tree, 
God's  purpose  be  fulfilled  in  me, 
Then  is  my  part  of  His  great  plan 
To  be  the  finest  tree  I  can. 

He  laughed  and  tossed  aside  the  leaf,  yet 
Picea  had  heard  the  words  and  was  happy. 
For  all  the  while  as  he  lay  on  the  soft  moss  and 
leaves  this  was  the  unceasing  murmur  of  her 
boughs,  and  now  he  had  found  the  peace  born 
in  her  in  the  forest  home.  The  Indian  who  is 
in  doubt  goes  solitary  into  the  forest.  Soli- 
tary? He  returns,  satisfied,  and  &ays  he  has 
talked  with  the  Great  Spirit. 

The  young  man  sprang  lightly  to  his  feet. 
Laying  his  hand  lovingly  upon  the  rough,  flak- 
ing scales  of  her  brown  bark,  ^' Picea,"  he  said 


106  FOREST  FANCIES 

gravely,  ^^I  believe  that  you  and  I  will  meet 
again.  It  may  not  be  in  this  forest ;  but  some- 
where, some  day,  somehow,  you  and  I  will  meet 
again  I '^ 

III. — The  Paper  Nest 

The  sun  slipped  back  of  the  mountain  and 
night  settled  down,  but  Picea  could  not  sleep, 
though  she  seemed  to  be  dreaming  under  the 
silver  coverlet  of  moonlight. 

** Perhaps  I  am  not  always  to  be  a  tree,''  she 
whispered  to  the  night  wind. 

** Sleep,  little  tree,"  said  the  old  spruce, 
though  Picea  was  now  almost  as  tall  as  she. 
**A11  too  soon  the  change  may  come.  When  I 
was  a  little  seed,  I  slept  content  in  the  shelter- 
ing cone  until  it  was  time  to  be  a  tree,  though 
it  seemed  a  long,  long  while.  This  same  trust  I 
have  ever  tried  to  teach  you  since  the  wind 
brought  you  to  the  shelter  of  my  boughs." 

'^Tou  have  been  a  good  foster-mother,"  said 
Picea,  softly. 

"Only  a  nurse-tree !"  laughed  a  pretty  little 


FOREST  LEAVES  107 

red  spruce.  **It  is  so  stylish  to  have  a  black 
nurse  1'' 

''That  was  the  part  given  me  to  fulfill,"  the 
black  spruce  patiently  replied. 

*'I  shall  always  call  you  'Mother/  "  said 
Picea,  lovingly,  "and  I  hope  that  I  may  do  my 
part  as  well  as  you  have  done  yours." 

"Sleep,  little  one,"  repeated  the  old  tree; 
but  in  the  morning  she  heard  a  question : 

"Mother,  was  paper  always  made  from 
trees?" 

"No,  my  child;  many  vegetable  fibers  have 
been  used  to  make  it,  though  now  it  is  made 
chiefly  of  wood — so  a  bookworm  told  me." 

Vespa,  the  wasp,  was  grinding  off  shreds 
from  an  old  log  with  her  mandibles  and  work- 
ing them  in  her  moist  jaws,  to  add  to  the  edge 
of  her  ever-growing  nest. 

As  she  pressed  and  kneaded  the  pellet  into  a 
cord  with  her  forelegs,  she  said,  "I  was  the 
very  first  to  make  paper  out  of  wood.  For  a 
long  while  only  the  Chinese  knew  how  it  was 
done.  Then  about  two  centuries  ago, ' '  she  con- 
tinued, when  she  had  drawn  the  cord  through 


108  FOREST  FANCIES 

her  mandibles  and  flattened  it  into  a  strip  of 
paper,  *^one  named  Reaumur  noticed  me  at 
work.  He  did  not  'go  to  the  ant/  but  went  to 
the  wasp  and  considered  her  ways ;  and  now  a 
great  Man-made  wasp,  with  sharp  steel  man- 
dibles and  iron  jaws,  sits  upon  the  river  bank, 
making  paper  out  of  wood.  Man  calls  the 
wasp  a  mill.'' 

As  the  summer  days  passed,  Picea  watched 
Vespa  making  paper.  When  the  chill,  wet 
days  of  autumn  came,  Vespa  flew  away  and  did 
not  return.    Her  work  was  done. 

As  the  last  bright  leaves  of  the  maples  fell 
to  the  ground,  Picea 's  neighbors  called  sleep- 
ily, *^  Good-night!" 

^* Good-night,"  responded  Picea,  ''and  good- 
bye!" 

''Why  'Good-bye'?"  asked  a  little  maple 
drowsily. 

Picea  looked  wistfully  through  the  evergreen 
forest,  intermixed  with  the  fading  foliage  of 
the  hardwood  trees,  with  here  and  there  a 
bright  autumnal  torch  that  the  north  wind  had 
not  blown  out,  and  sighed.     She  leaned  her 


FOREST  LEAVES  109 

dark  head  a  little  closer  to  the  maples,  whis- 
pering, ^^  Sleep  sweetly  through  the  winter,  and 
when  the  spring  awakes  you  and  hangs  your 
boughs  with  coral,  think  of  me!" 

*^But  you  will  talk  to  us,  will  you  not,  when 
the  spring  returns?"  asked  the  maples,  who 
had  learned  to  love  Picea  and  no  more  made 
fun  of  her  old  green  dress. 

But  Picea  answered,  *^ Listen!" 

"I  hear  only  the  wind  and  the  river,"  re- 
plied .a  maple  tree. 

** Listen!"  repeated  the  spruce;  and  as  the 
maples  were  quiet,  listening,  one  by  one  they 
fell  asleep. 

But  Picea  was  awake,  listening  to  the  call 
of  the  river. 

At  last  one  night,  while  the  old  spruce  was 
dreaming,  Picea  answered  that  far  call  from 
the  valley. 

*^Whom  are  you  calling?"  she  asked. 

And  the  river  answered,  **You!" 


110  FOREST  FANCIES 

IV.— The  Book 

As  a  tree  feels  the  approach  of  a  cold  win- 
ter and  thickens  the  walls  of  its  buds,  so  Picea 
knew  that  her  days  in  the  forest  were  num- 
bered. And  one  day  the  axman  came,  and  her 
tall  spire,  pointing  so  long  to  the  stars,  fell 
crashing  to  earth. 

Touching  the  old  spruce  in  her  fall,  Picea 
called,  ** Mother,  good-bye!" 

And  the  old  tree  answered,  *'My  daughter, 
may  all  go  well  with  you  out  in  the  world!" 

Picea  came  heavily  down  upon  the  pretty 
little  spruce  tree.  ^^I  did  not  mean  to  harm 
you,"  she  said  tenderly.  **I  had  hoped  that 
you  would  take  my  place  in  the  forest." 

Shorn  of  boughs,  her  trunk  was  measured 
into  smaller  lengths,  and  skidded,  with  many 
others,  down  to  the  river. 

**I  heard  you  call,  and  I  have  come,"  she 
said  faintly  to  the  river.  **0h,  your  touch  is 
cold  and  chills  my  heart!  Let  me  rest  here 
awhile;  I  am  not  ready  for  the  dance." 

*  *  Rest ! ' '  whispered  the  river.    ^ '  Lie  here  by 


o 

pq 
< 

t— I 

a 
< 


FOREST  LEAVES  111 

my  bank  in  the  shadow  of  your  home  and  sleep 
through  the  winter,  dreaming  that  still  the 
wind  plays  over  your  boughs  and  sings  to  you 
through  the  long  winter  night." 

^*I  cannot  dream  that  the  wind  caresses  me," 
sighed  Picea,  *'for  your  touch  is  cold,  colder 
than  the  north  wind  I" 

**Let  my  song  weave  through  your  dreams," 
murmured  the  river,  *' until  it  is  like  the  lul- 
laby of  the  wind  when  you  swung  in  your  cone- 
cradle  on  the  spruce  tree  bough.  When  the 
spring  comes,  I  will  wake  you  and  bear  you 
away." 

Picea  lay  silent,  listening  to  the  song  of  the 
river.  The  dark,  cold  night  came;  but  the 
same  stars  as  of  old  looked  down  upon  her,  the 
same  stars  with  the  same  message.  And  so 
she  slept,  dreaming  that  once  more  she  stood 
upon  the  mountain  side,  binding  her  forehead 
with  boughs  of  green  and  lifting  her  taper 
fingers  toward  the  stars. 

At  last  the  winter  sleep  was  over,  for  spring 
had  returned  to  the  forest.  Slowly  the  river 
rose,  lifting  Picea  and  her  sylvan  friends. 


112  FOREST  FANCIES 

Drivers  guided  them  into  the  current.  There 
was  the  lulling  motion  of  moving  water ;  then 
the  mountains  went  slipping  by  and  the  forest 
faded  into  the  past,  and  they  floated  far,  far 
down  the  changing  valley,  out  into  that  great 
world  which  Picea  was  now  to  know. 

In  a  quiet  harbor,  the  forest  pilgrims  found 
their  rest.  A  mill  rose  before  them  like  a 
castle;  but  to  Picea  it  was  the  gateway  into 
the  world,  which  she  was  to  enter,  dressed  in 
bark,  and  come  forth  in  a  garment  of  snow, 
clothed  like  a  bride. 

One  day  the  poet  opened  a  book.  Picea 
remembered  the  touch  of  that  hand.  His  look 
drifted  over  pages  white  like  the  dogwood  in 
bloom,  yet  lingered  upon  one — the  least  of  all 
the  poems ;  and  he  seemed  once  more  upon  the 
mountain  side,  listening  to  the  song  of  the 
spruce  tree : 


Formed  and  fashioned  like  a  tree, 
Shade  I  am  and  shield  to  thee, 
How  content,  through  sun,  through  rain, 
In  the  forest  to  remain ! 


FOREST  LEAVES  113 

But  when  echoes  thy  far  call, 

Let  a  change  my  lot  befall 

Garment  of  the  tree  I  doff, 
Cast  my  crown  of  branches  off, 

Hasten  from  my  sylvan  home, 
Thee  to  find,  though  far  to  roam, 
In  new  service  unto  thee, 
Still  to  serve  humanity: 

Bear  thy  message  to  the  world 

On  my  wings  of  white  unfurled 

Bear  thy  heart  *s  own  message  then 
To  the  hearts  of  other  men! 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD 

**01d  nurses  do  not  tell  children  about  the 
grass,  but  about  the  fairies  that  dance  on  the 
grass;  and  the  old  Greeks  could  not  see  the  trees 
for  the  dryads. ' '       --^Gilbert  K.  Chesterton, 

I.— The  Wood-Nymph 

NCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  forest 
that  stretched  for  many  miles  over 
mountain,  valley,  and  plain,  the 
trees  bound  the  soil  with  the  strong 
chain  of  their  interwoven  roots,  and  with  their 
interlacing  branches  formed  a  shelter  for  the 
wild  bird,  a  haunt  for  the  deer,  and  a  shade  for 
the  sons  of  earth. 

And  there  were  other  inhabitants  of  the  for- 
est—little wood-nymphs  who  dwelt  within  the 
trees,  like  good  thoughts  in  kindly  hearts.  The 
clear-eyed  Indian  must  have  seen  them— for 

117 


118  FOREST  FANCIES 

were  there  not  spirits  of  air  and  forest  and 
water?    But  this  was  many  years  ago. 

One  day,  as  the  wood-nymph  of  the  birch 
tree  guided  the  Indian's  bark  canoe,  a  water- 
nymph  brought  news : 

^*I  have  seen  a  canoe,  made  of  much  wood, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river ;  and  the  faces  I  saw 
were  the  color  of  shells." 

*'The  canoe  has  wings,  and  I  blew  it  across 
the  sea,"  cried  a  sylph  of  the  air.  **The  Pale 
Face  has  come  to  make  a  home  for  himself  and 
his  children.  Some  day  he  will  possess  the  for- 
est and  the  rivers." 

Did  she  whisper  warnings  to  the  Indian  in 
his  canoe?  For  he  pricked  his  ears  like  a 
startled  deer,  scenting  an  enemy  who  would 
sweep  away  the  Red  Man  and  the  forest  that 
he  loved. 

Two  hundred  rings  and  more  had  circled  on 
old  oak  tree  since  the  landing  of  the  big  canoe, 
when  a  pioneer  stooped  and  drank  from  the 
spring  that  bubbled  among  its  roots.  Then, 
shouldering  his  axe,  he  followed  the  stream 


ONCE   UPOx\   A   TLME  THERE   WAS   A   FOREST 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      119 

through  the  forest.  In  a  favored  spot  he  cut 
down  a  tree;  and  where  the  tree  fell,  a  cabin 
grew. 

To  this  cabin  the  pioneer  brought  his  wife ; 
and  the  wood-nymphs  whose  trees  they  had 
taken  for  house  and  fire  came,  silent  and  un- 
seen, to  their  bright  hearth.  When  there  were 
three  in  the  home,  they  gathered  around  the 
rude  cradle,  and  the  child  caught  their  whis- 
pers and  smiled. 

As  the  child  grew  older,  he  used  to  follow 
his  father  into  the  forest.  Here  day  after  day 
the  restless  axe  was  swung,  to  give  them  a  lit- 
tle ground  for  corn  and  wheat.  But  some- 
times the  boy  would  run  from  the  sound  of  the 
noisy  axe  and  wander  up  the  stream.  His  fav- 
orite spot  was  under  the  oak,  where  he  would 
often  sit  for  hours,  gazing  down  into  the 
spring. 

As  little  Josiah  sat  here  one  day,  longing  for 
someone  to  play  with,  suddenly  a  pair  of  soft 
hands  were  clapped  over  his  eyes:  *^ Guess 
who?" 

*  *  I  saw  you  in  the  spring ! ' '   And  before  the 


120  FOREST  FANCIES 

nymph  even  thought  of  her  tree,  he  turned 
and  kissed  her. 

**  Why  have  you  never  come  to  play  with  me 
before?'' 

She  sprang  up,  laughing.  ^Tome,  let  us 
play  now,  and  make  up  for  lost  time." 

So  they  played  all  day  long  in  the  forest; 
and  she  showed  him  in  which  trees  his  top  and 
hoop^  his  bat  and  sled,  his  box  and  basket  grew. 

** Every  day,"  said  she,  *'you  will  want 
many,  many  things  that  grow  in  trees." 

And  true  enough,  he  found  that  house  and 
hearth-fire,  the  fence  around  the  clearing,  the 
chair  and  the  table,  his  mother's  spindle  and 
the  oxen  yoke,  the  wagon  for  the  road  and  the 
bridge  and  the  boat  for  the  river,  all  had  grown 
in  the  forest. 

And  then  he  became  more  and  more  inter- 
ested in  the  things  that  came  from  the  forest, 
until  he  almost  forgot  the  forest  itself.  As  for 
the  little  wood-nymph,  he  began  to  doubt 
Whether  she  really  did  live  within  the  oak — 
or  did  she  not  mean  some  log-cabin  on  the 
mountain  ? 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      121 


a 


Nay,  nay,"  she  laughed,  ^*I  am  the  guard- 
ian of  this  spring ;  and  as  long  as  the  oak  tree 
stands,  it  is  my  home." 

'^Then  as  long  as  I  live,"  he  exclaimed, 
*'your  oak  shall  stand,  though  ^a  thousand  fall 
at  thy  side!'" 

**Aye,  the  thousands  are  falling,"  she  said 
sadly.  *'Man  needs  much  wood;  but  the  rivers, 
too,  need  trees." 

Josiah  pondered  upon  her  words,  and  one 
day  he  asked  her  what  they  meant. 

^^ Under  the  shade  of  this  forest,"  she  an- 
swered, **and  through  the  great  sponge  of  its 
leaf -mold  and  the  root-bound  earth  beneath, 
the  rain  soaks  slowly,  slowly  down,  to  trickle 
out  at  last  in  tiny  springs.  So  leave  the  trees 
upon  the  mountain  side,  for  the  forest  is  the 
river's  friend." 

**As  the  forest  protects  the  streams,"  he 
cried,  '^so  I  will  protect  the  forest!" 

However,  he  was  now  learning  things  out  of 
books  that  told  him  nothing  about  little  wood- 
nymphs  who  guarded  springs ;  and  in  the  pass- 
ing years,  he  had  no  time  to  think  of  the  forest 


122  FOREST  FANCIES 

or  the  spring  or  of  her  who  watched  beside  it. 
All  his  thoughts  were  for  the  law  of  the  world, 
and  all  beautiful  laws  that  were  higher,  and 
all  inner  meaning  that  lies  beyond  the  material 
expression  of  things,  faded  from  his  mind. 

As  his  inner  ear  closed  more  and  more,  his 
outer  ear  caught  louder  the  call  of  the  world, 
and  one  day  he  packed  the  old  family  carpet- 
bag and  started  for  the  city. 

Before  Josiah  left  the  clearing,  he  hap- 
pened to  think  of  the  spring,  in  the  water  of 
which  he  would  drink  to  his  success,  and  there 
he  remembered  the  wood-nymph. 

''Did  you  call  me?" 

''No,  I  did  not  call  you,"  he  confessed. 

"Ah,  I  heard  your  thought  and  came,  before 
the  world  should  teach  you  to  forget." 

"But  I  will  not  forget,"  he  cried,  "and 
every  year  you  may  look  for  me  with  the 
laurel." 

"Nay,  you  will  forget  the  forest,  you  will 
forget  the  spring,  and  her  who  watches  by  its 
side.  The  world  will  tell  you  naught  of  little 
nymphs  who  live  within  the  trees ;  and  by-and- 


m 
W 

O 

o 
o 

w 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      123 

by  you  will  not  be  able  to  see  one,  even  though 
you  try — worse  still,  you  will  not  care.  Only 
children  are  wise  enough  to  know." 

"Then  give  me  the  heart  of  a  child,  for  you 
I  will  never  forget,  nor  my  promise  to  save 
the  forest.  I  swear  it  on  the  oak:  I  will  be 
true." 

**Nay,  do  not  swear  it  on  the  oak,"  said  she, 
**for  the  oak  will  fall.  Give  me  your  hand 
across  the  spring." 

So  he  bared  his  head  and  knelt  among  the 
ferns— but  he  found  himself  alone— alone  in 
the  vast  stillness  of  the  forest. 

''You  were  only  a  dream  after  all!"  he 
breathed,  though  her  eyes  were  blue  in  the 
shadow. 

Then  he  shook  off  the  spell  of  the  beautiful 
solitude. 

''Away  with  dreams,"  laughed  he,  ''for  life 
is  real  I" 

^  And  gripping  his  carpetbag,  he  strode  down 
the  path  beside  the  stream,  out  into  the  world, 
where  he  became  a  great  man. 

The  laurel  blossomed  around  the  spring. 


124  FOREST  FANCIES 

wherever  the  ferns  made  room.  The  laurel 
faded  and  the  snow  fell  and  made  a  fairy  for- 
est all  around,  with  only  the  little  dark  well  of 
water  to  break  the  pallor.  Fifty  Mays  the 
laurel  bloomed,  fifty  winters  the  white  snow, 
fell.  The  wood-nymph  waited  beside  the 
spring,  waited  and  watched  for  him. 

II. — The  Fall  of  the  Oak 

While  the  wood-nymph  waited  by  the  spring, 
settlers  were  building  homes  beyond  the  moun- 
tains. Every  day  the  field  grew  larger  and  the 
forest  smaller.  Even  there  she  could  hear  the 
echo  of  the  axe  among  the  hills. 

Then  one  day  a  settler,  passing  by,  stopped 
to  drink  at  the  spring. 

"Have  you  come  to  save  the  forest T'  she 
asked  of  him. 

"Why,  there  is  timber  for  all,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "and  trees  for  bonfires." 

'  ^  ^  Waste  not,  want  not ! '  "  was  her  warning ; 
but  he  went  on  his  way,  clearing  the  ground  to 
farm. 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      125 

Next  a  lumberman  came  by,  carrying  his  axe 
and  his  saw. 

''Have  you  come  to  save  the  forest  ?''  she  in- 
quired. 

/'The  world  wants  wood,"  he  replied,  "and 
there  is  plenty."  And  he  pushed  on  his  way, 
sweeping  the  hills  of  trees. 

"'Waste  not,  want  not!'"  chorused  the 
wood-nymphs ;  but  the  bark  of  the  axe  and  the 
snarl  of  the  saw  were  so  loud  that  he  could  not 
hear,  and  taking  only  one  log  from  each  tree, 
he  threw  the  rest  away. 

"  'Waste  not,  want  not!'  "  they  repeated; 
but  the  slash  that  he  left  behind,  dried  in  the 
sun.  Here  a  careless  spark  found  its  home, 
and  fire  went  roaring  over  the  mountain. 

And  so  the  forest  was  conquered.  The  hills 
lost  their  beauty  and  the  ground  its  bond  of 
roots;  the  deer  lost  its  covert,  the  wild  bird 
its  shelter,  and  little  rills  laughed  no  more 
among  the  mountains. 

The  spring  rains  fell  and  snow  melted  on  the 
peaks.  Where  there  were  no  trees  to  hold  the 
water  back,  the  swollen  streams  rolled  brawl- 


126  FOREST  FANCIES 

ing  to  the  rivers  of  the  valley,  and  floods  over- 
spread the  land. 

The  water-nymphs  lifted  their  eyes  to  the 
hills;  but  the  roots  that  bound  the  earth,  the 
boughs  that  shaded  the  moist  earth,  were  gone. 
There  was  no  forest  well  to  hold  the  rain. 

Then  the  wood-nymph  of  the  oak  tree,  hear- 
ing their  plaint,  strapped  on  her  sandals  of 
bark. 

'*I  will  go  forth  and  seek  one  who  will  save 
the  forest." 

With  her  green  mantle  on  her  arm,  she 
paused  under  the  shadow  of  the  oak :  the  bite 
of  the  axe — ^how  near ! 

That  same  night,  in  the  City  of  the  World, 
three  hundred  sat  at  long  tables  in  a  banquet 
hall,  but  no  one  noticed  the  window  where  two 
bright  eyes  kept  watch.  There  were  spark- 
ling glasses  and  sparkling  speeches;  someone 
arose  amid  applause.  The  little  figure  at  the 
window  tiptoed  to  see,  but  only  the  voice  of 
one  grown  old,  yet  still  very  much  alive, 
reached  her  straining  ear. 


< 

o 
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H 

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CO 

< 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      127 

Laughingly  he  greeted  the  three  hundred— 
for  the  shadow  of  the  vine  was  upon  him,  and 
upon  all  the  three  hundred. 

''Gentlemen/'  said  he,  ''our  first  enemy  was 
the  forest.  When  the  Pale  Pace  came  to  make 
his  home,  trees  stood  guard  along  the  shore 
and  fortified  the  hills.  The  forest  possessed 
the  land.  Out  of  that  wilderness,  we  have 
builded  a  Nation.  The  trees  made  room  for 
the  cabin.  The  forest  gave  place  to  the  corn- 
patch.  You  ask,  what  will  become  of  the  world 
without  any  trees  ?  What  would  have  become 
of  us  with  so  many?  Shall  we  freeze  now, 
that  the  future  may  be  warm  ?  When  the  heat 
of  the  sun  gives  out,  'what  will  poor  Robin  do 
thenr 

"Priends,  the  forest  is  ours,  so  long  as  it 
lasts.  Let  us  keep  on  cutting  down  trees,  and 
never  think  of  to-morrow.  With  Whittier,, 
we  will  gladly  say : 

*'  'I,  grateful,  take  the  good  I  find, 
The  best  of  now  and  here!' 

' '  Gentlemen,  good-night  I ' ' 


128  FOREST  FANCIES 

Before  the  speaker  sat  down  amid  applause 
and  laughter,  the  one  at  the  window,  tilting  on 
her  toes,  caught  sight  of  him ;  it  was  Josiah. 

Some  time  later,  as  he  left  the  marble  portal, 
he  noticed  there  a  little  maid  in  green.  The 
hour  was  so  late,  or  rather  so  early,  that  he 
wondered  at  her,  and  why  she  looked  so  sad. 

"My  home  is  in  danger,"  she  answered  him. 

'*My  dear  child,  let  me  help  you." 

''Then  follow  me." 

Josiah  grew  breathless,  so  fast  did  she  pilot 
him  through  city  streets  to  country.  Was  he 
dreaming?    Should  he  pinch  his  arm  to  see? 

They  skimmed  over  barren  hills,  robbed  of 
their  trees  by  axe  and  fire;  they  passed  de- 
serted upland  farms  with  their  soil  washed 
away  by  rain,  and  lowland  farms  destroyed  by 
floods.     Josiah  spoke : 

'^The  Kansas  poet  wrote  of  'walls  of  corn,' 
a  good  idea." 

She  nodded  wisely.  "And  what  about  our 
'walls  of  trees'?" 

"'Walls  of  trees'?"  he  repeated.  "Yes, 
there  were  'walls  of  trees'  along  our  coasts  and 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      129 

by  the  Lakes — but  we  are  breaking  down  our 
'walls  of  trees.'  " 

*'Come  hither,  and  answer  the  question, 
*Doesitpay?''' 

She  led  him  down  to  the  river,  jBowing 
brown  between  bare  banks.  Something  was 
moving  on  the  surface,  white  like  a  waterlily. 
Josiah  sprang  forward: 

*'Piek  her  up  tenderly, 
Handle  with  care '' 

*'I'm  not  glass,"  said  the  water-nymph,  lift- 
ing her  face  above  the  flood. 

*  *  Pardon  me, ' '  said  he.  *  *  Can  I  be  of  any  as- 
sistance ?  Will  you  join  us  here,  and  dry  your 
wet  garments  in  the  moonlight?" 

**This  is  my  home,"  replied  the  water- 
nymph. 

**A  damp  place,"  commented  Josiah;  **a 
trifle  muddy,  too." 

**You  know  why  it  is  so,"  she  complained; 
*' where  you  have  taken  the  trees  from  the  hills, 
the  soil  washes  down  into  the  streams." 

*' Madam,  I  will  immediately  get  Congress 


130  FOREST  FANCIES 

to  appropriate  a  few  millions  and  make  your 
damp  little  home  all  clean — dredge  it  out,  you 
know;  sort  of  house  clean  it/' 

**I  wish  you  would  do  so  every  year/'  she 
said  fretfully,  shaking  the  clinging  sand  from 
her  hair,  **or  keep  the  hills  out  of  the  river, 
where  they  don't  belong." 

*^That  is  a  big  proposition,"  returned  Jo- 
siah.  *^  However,  we  might  plant  some  trees 
upon  the  hills,  and  keep  them  there.  That 
would  be  cheaper  in  the  end.  I  should  cer- 
tainly like  to  make  you  ladies  comfortable." 

**I  have  been  trying  to  turn  your  mill  wheels, 
but  the  streams  are  inconstant,  for  the  springs 
dry  up.  I  want  clean  water  for  your  cities. 
I  try  to  float  your  ships,  but  the  silt  chokes  the 
channels." 

**  *  Little  drops  of  water, 
Little  grains  of  sand/  '* 

repeated  Josiah  thoughtfully. 

^'That's  just  it!"  she  cried. 

A  sylph  fluttered  from  the  sky.  ^^The  for- 
est draws  the  rain." 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      131 

**And  stores  the  rain,"  said  the  one  in  green. 

**And  metes  it  out  pure  to  the  springs,"  said 
the  water-nymph,  ''that  the  streams  may  be 
clear  and  constant." 

And  then  they  talked  to  him,  and  he  was 
glad  to  listen;  for  they  were  three  very  charm- 
ing maidens,  earnest  and  sweet  in  their  en- 
deavor to  show  that  this  earth  should  be  made 
a  good  abiding  place  for  all. 

Being  old,  Josiah  got  a  little  rheumatic  sit- 
ting upon  the  ground;  and  as  Miss  Butterfly 
spread  her  wings  to  the  starting  breeze  and 
Miss  Waterlily  floated  out  upon  the  tide,  he 
arose  stiffly. 

My  dear  young  ladies,"  he  conceded  at  last, 

since  I  was  young,  things  have  changed; 
there  are  more  people  and  fewer  trees ;  and  it 
will  be  wiser  to  treat  the  forest  as  a  friend 
rather  than  as  an  enemy.  We  must  be  more 
careful  about  the  cutting.  Yes,  yes,  it  will 
pay ;  and  I  wish  I  had  the  three  hundred  be- 
fore me  now,  I  would  put  another  end  to  my 
speech.  To  show  a  man  his  interest  is  doing 
more  than  making  laws.    I  would  show  that 


6i 


132  FOREST  FANCIES 

we  were  misusing  a  good  friend,  killing  off 
the  forest.  And  I  would  add  the  words  of 
Bryant,  our  poet: 

**  'Before  these  fields  were  shorn  and  tilled, 
Full  to  the  brim  our  rivers  flowed; 
The  melody  of  waters  filled 
The  fresh  and  boundless  woods ; 
And  torrents  dashed,  and  rivulets  played, 
And  fountains  sported  in  the  shade.' 

*  ^  Ladies,  good-night  I ' ' 

Josiah  bowed.  Butterfly  fluttered  off. 
Waterlily  drifted  down  the  stream.  He  and 
the  one  in  green  were  left  alone. 

*^  You  told  me  your  home  was  in  danger,"  he 
said.    *  *  I  had  well  nigh  forgotten  my  mission. ' ' 

**You  are  prone  to  forget,"  she  reproached 
him.    ^^ Follow  me." 

She  led  him  toward  the  mountains.  The 
scene  grew  familiar.  He  looked  down  at  the 
half -hidden  path,  once  a  sandy  road  in  the  for- 
est, now  hardly  a  trail  through  brush. 

*^Is  this  the  road  I  remember?"  he  asked. 
**Nigh  sixty  years  ago  I  used  to  drive  here 
under  the  trees,  past  little  springs  hidden 
among  f ern«^  great  wavy  ferns,  drive  for  miles 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      133 

that  seemed  short  to  the  little  white  meeting- 
house that  stood  here,  with  the  crystal  branch 
in  front,  singing  over  its  stones.  If  we  could 
sing  over  hard  places  the  way  a  brook  does, 
wouldn't  it  make  it  pleasant  along  the  way?'' 

She  nodded  and  tripped  along,  toward  the 
forest,  to  a  little  spring  under  an  oak  tree. 
Over  the  far  mountain  the  dawn  had  kissed  a 
wandering  cloud  to  a  rosy  hue,  and  it  now 
revealed  the  face  of  her  who  stood  beside  the 
spring.  What  he  had  thought  a  green  mantle 
were  twining  oak  leaves,  and  from  their 
shadow  her  eyes  looked  forth  into  his  soul. 

'' Forgive  me!"  he  cried.  ^'I  forgot  you— 
forgot  your  voice  in  the  sounds  of  the  world, 
forgot  your  eyes  in  the  sights  of  the  world,  for- 
got my  promise  and  our  tryst  I" 

She  smiled— a  little  mockingly. 

*'I  will  redeem  my  promise.  I  will  serve 
you,  as  you  serve  mankind.  I  will  protect  the 
forest  and  save  your  tree.    It  is  not  too  late." 

But  her  face  was  lost  in  shadow  as  she 
slipped  back  into  her  tree,  with  the  echo,  ''Too 
late,  too  late!" 


134  FOREST  FANCIES 

As  Josiah  made  his  slow  way  down  the 
stream,  he  met  a  woodchopper  entering  the 
forest;  and  though  he  cried,  "  '0  woodsman, 
spare  that  tree !'  "  the  man,  unheeding,  passed. 
Soon  the  early  morning  stillness  was  broken 
by  the  sound  of  a  quick  axe,  followed  by  the 
crash  of  a  falling  tree. 

III. — The  King  of  the  Fokest 

One  summer  morning  a  bugle  call  awoke  the 
echoes  among  the  mountains,  and  a  young  man 
came  merrily  over  the  hills.  As  he  went,  he 
meted  out  land  for  farm  and  for  forest,  that 
Nature  might  best  serve  Man.  At  sight  of  a 
pretty  maid  in  the  wood  he  swung  off  his  big 
gray  hat  and  smiled. 

*  ^Pardon  me;  I  thought  I  was  alone — alone 
but  for  the  wild  things,  the  trees,  and — God.'' 

*'I  live  here  in  the  forest,"  she  replied. 

'*I  envy  you,"  he  said. 

**Then  if  you  love  the  trees,  why  that  hatchet 
in  your  hand?" 

'^You  don't  think  that  I  could  cut  down  a 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      135 

great  big  tree  with  this  little  hatchet?''  His 
laugh  rang  merrily  through  the  silent  wood. 
*' Madam,  this  forest  has  been  given  into  my 
keeping,  to  preserve,  not  to  destroy,  that  it 
may  be  a  blessing  now  and  in  time  to  come." 
As  he  spoke,  he  chipped  the  bark  of  an  old 
tree  with  a  heavy  shade. 

' '  Who  woke  me  ?  "  And  a  wood-nymph  ran 
lightly  from  the  tree. 

*'I'm  sorry.  Miss,"  replied  the  young  man, 
abashed;  *'I  didn't  know  you  were  sleeping  in 
the  tree.  I  was  just  marking  it  to  be  cut  down, 
for  it  is  keeping  these  younger  trees  from 
growing." 

*^Yes,  it  is  time  for  my  home  to  go,  for  here 
it  is  worse  than  useless." 

As  he  chipped  a  second  tree,  another  nymph 
awoke. 
''Who  cut  into  my  tree  ?"  she  asked  sharply. 
''I  did  it  with  my  little  hatchet,"  he  an- 
swered frankly,  ''for  it  is  crowding  better 
trees.  But  I  am  right  sorry  to  disturb  all  you 
girls.  I  didn't  know  you  were  having  a  pic- 
nic in  the  woods." 


136  FOREST  FANCIES 


6i 


The  trees  are  our  homes,"  they  replied. 

A  light  dawned  in  the  young  man's  face. 

*'I  thought  Uncle  Josiah  was  dreaming,"  he 
murmured.  '*Yes,  yes,  there  are  wood- 
nymphs.  I  remember  now  the  one  who  used 
to  rock  my  oaken  cradle  and  sing  me  songs  of 
the  beautiful  forest  that  God  had  given  to 
Man.    How  one  forgets  as  one  grows  up !" 

He  paused  before  a  large,  fine  oak  loath  to 
chip  its  bark. 

^^Hush,  woodpecker!"  cried  a  voice  within. 
**I  was  sleeping,  dreaming  that  my  oak  had 
been  made  into  handsome  furniture  to  gladden 
a  good  man's  home." 

*^Such  a  tree  would  make  a  fine  quarter- 
sawed  oak  set,"  replied  the  young  man.  **I 
wish  I  had  it." 

And  he  tapped  upon  a  tall  chestnut. 

*^Who  knocked  upon  my  door?" 

**I'm  awful  sorry,  Miss,  but  I  must  ask  for 
your  pagoda." 

^^Are  you  a  forester?"  she  asked. 

**A  server  of  the  forest,"  he  replied. 

'*Then  take  my  home." 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      137 

"And  mine  I'' 

**  And  mine  1" 

The  young  man  looked  thoughtfully  over  the 
trees,  planning  a  new  forest  out  of  the  old. 
Yet  suppose  a  fire  should  burn  the  forest  and 
the  dream? 

,  **When  your  trees  are  cut,"  said  he,  **a  lot 
of  slash  won't  be  left  lying  around,  ready  for 
a  big  bonfire.  No,  the  branches,  cut  off  and 
given  back  to  Mother  Earth,  will  rot  and  en- 
rich the  soil,  and  so  return  to  Life.  And  noth- 
ing will  be  wasted.  Don't  you  know  that  our 
Teacher  said,  *  Gather  up  the  fragments  that 
remain,  that  nothing  be  lost?'  It  is  good  to 
apply  this  to  the  great,  beautiful  wealth  of  for- 
est which  we  find  here  for  our  use.  That's 
common  sense.  I'm  a  practical  man,  and  want 
to  keep  this  old  earth  of  ours  in  good  working 
trim,  that's  all." 

*^ Hail  I"  cried  the  wood-nymphs,  laughingly- 
clasping  hands  and  circling  around  him,  call- 
ing him  king  of  the  forest. 

Of  course,  the  forester  felt  a  little  shy, 
though  after  all  he  was  willing  to  join  hands 


138  FOREST  FANCIES 

with  them  and  play  even  ^^Ring-around-a- 
rosy." 

As  the  song  of  the  dancers  died  away,  a 
nymph  came  running  up:  ^^The  queen  says, 
'Bring  hither  the  young  man  with  the 
hatchet.' '' 

They  led  him,  laughing,  through  the  wood- 
land way,  to  what  ordinary  eyes  would  call  a 
pile  of  slash,  but  which  he  perceived  to  be  a 
rustic  throne,  made  from  the  loving  arms  of 
the  old  oak  tree,  mantled  with  moss  and  ivy, 
and  holding  her  who  had  been  chosen  queen  of 
the  wood-nymphs  because  she  had  saved  the 
forest. 

As  the  forester  approached,  the  queen,  see- 
ing the  hatchet,  frowned.  Thrice  he  bowed, 
and  thrice  he  kissed  her  hand  before  she 
spoke. 

''What  have  you  to  say,  woodchopper?" 

**But,  Madam,  that  is  not  my  name." 

*  *  A  lumberman,  then  ? ' ' 

''Not  so.'' 

"Then,  friend,  what  is  your  name ?" 

Friend,'  that  is  right:  I  am  a  forester." 


(( (- 


THE  MERRY  GREENWOOD      139 

^*So  you  have  a  mission  in  the  forest?" 

^^ Madam,"  he  replied,  **it  is  written,  'The 
earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fullness  thereof.' 
The  earth,  and  the  fullness  of  the  earth,  are 
for  all.    The  forest  is  for  all." 

His  words  dispelled  her  frown. 

'^I  have  waited  long  for  you,"  she  said,  '^but 
I  have  not  waited  in  vain." 

''Dear  queen,"  said  he,  "in  serving  you,  I 
serve  mankind." 

"And  so  we  bury  the  hatchet." 

But  the  forester  looked  alarmed  as  he  re- 
plied, "O  Madam,  this  is  a  useful  little  toma- 
hawk, meant  to  mark  those  trees  which  the  for- 
est will  give  to  Man." 

"Aye,  but  be  sure  that  the  forest  yearly 
gives  no  more  than  it  yearly  grows." 

"And  the  forest  will  live  forever !"  cried  the 
nymphs. 

"Then  long  reign  the  queen  of  the  wood- 
nymphs!" 

"And  long  rule  the  king  of  the  forest  I" 

"The  day  departs,"  he  said  at  last,  "and  I 
must  follow;  but  I  will  return  with  the  snow 


140  FOREST  FANCIES 

and  my  axe  shall  do  your  bidding,  my  fairy 
queen.  For  I  will  not  forget  my  promise — I 
will  be  true :  I  will  serve  you  to  the  end  of  my 
days." 

'*Then  give  me  your  hand  over  running 
water;  remember,  only  he  who  is  true,  must 
vow.'' 

So  he  knelt  in  the  ferns  beside  the  stream 
and  vowed  over  running  water.  But  when  he 
arose,  the  queen  was  gone,  the  nymphs  were 
flown — a  hundred  years  had  rolled  away:  he 
saw  the  forest  of  the  future,  crowning  the  hills 
from  sea  to  sea. 

Then  this,  too,  vanished.  He  stood  in  the 
limitless  Present,  alone  with  the  trees. 


THE  FRUIT  OF 
THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE 


THE  FRUIT  OF  THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE 

Not  cone,  nor  candle,  nor  gifts,  nor  golden  star. 

LITTLE  balsam-fir  tree  grew  in  a 

forest,  in  a  pleasant  opening  like 

a  nursery-room,  where  other  baby 

evergreens    were  blinking  in  the 

sunlight,  with  only  here  and  there 

a  mamma-tree  holding  her  parasol  over  their 

heads.    While  the  older  trees  exchanged  ideas 

about  the  weather  and  other  important  topics, 

the  little  trees  sat  in  their  cozy  spot,  playing 

they  were  big  trees,  and  as  they  grew  taller, 

trying  to  wear  cones  like  their  elders.    They  all 

wore  dresses  of  the  real  forest  color,  green,  and 

the  same  little  frock  did  for  summer  and 

winter. 

*^It  seems  so  odd,"  said  a  balsam-fir  to  a 

birch  tree,  *Hhat  you  should  take  off  your  dress 

as  soon  as  cold  weather  comes." 

*^And  I  have  often  been  surprised,"  replied 
143 


144  FOREST  FANCIES 

the  birch  tree,  **that  you  should  wear  fir  all 
summer." 

^'However,"  put  in  the  cedar  tree,  *'you 
know  that  cedar  keeps  away  moths." 

**And  if  that  doesn't  mend  matters,"  cried 
the  pine  tree,  sharp  of  wit,  *Hhen  please  try; 
my  needles!" 

'* Don't  let  us  talk  of  clothes,"  begged  the  lit- 
tle balsam-fir;  *^let  us  play  at  being  grown  up, 
and  talk  of  the  things  that  we'll  do  then." 

'^Perhaps  they  won't  leave  us  here  to  grow 
up,"  said  the  spruce  tree.  *^As  we  grow  big- 
ger, we'll  crowd  one  another  and  stand  in  each 
other's  light." 

*^Then  let  us  be  happy  while  we  may," 
breathed  the  balsam-fir,  **and  love  one  an- 
other." 

**May  you  never  be  taken  from  us,  Cho-koh- 
tung!"  exclaimed  the  pine  tree. 

Cho-koh-tung  smiled  at  the  old  Indian  name, 
which  means  the  balsam  '^blisters"  on  her  bark. 

While  the  little  trees  were  playing  at  being 
grown  up  and  talking  of  the  great  things  that 
they  would  do  when  as  tall  as  the  mamma-trees 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE  145 

holding  parasols  over  their  heads,  real  chil- 
dren, who  had  grown  up  between  brick  walls 
on  a  paved  street,  came  trooping  into  their 
nursery-room. 

^^When  I  am  a  man,''  cried  Alec,  the  oldest, 
**I'll  be  a  forester  and  work  in  the  woods !" 

**And  I,"  said  Archie,  **I  am  going  to  build 
houses  out  of  wood.'' 

**I  am  going  to  live  in  a  tree  I"  shouted  little 
Ray,  and  all  laughed. 

**What  are  you  going  to  do,  Emily?"  asked 
Archie  of  their  sister. 

**I  should  like  to  take  poor  city  children  into 
the  forest,  that  they  might  be  as  happy  as  I 
am  now,"  Emily  replied.  **See,  Alec,  what  a 
beautiful  tree,  so  like  a  cone !  I  think  it  must 
have  grown  here  just  to  make  me  glad." 

And  she  sat  down  beside  the  little  balsam- 
fir  while  her  brothers  scampered  about  like 
squirrels. 

'^I  have  seen  trees  that  looked  like  you, 
every  Christmas  I  have  seen  them,"  she  said 
to  Cho-koh-tung,  for  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
found  a  little  woodland  friend  in  the  great 


146  FOREST  FANCIES 

forest.  ^  *  Those  trees  grew  in  painted  tubs  and 
stood  in  warm  rooms  with  tinsel  and  tapers  on 
their  branches.    They  were  Christmas  trees.'' 

''What  is  a  Christmas  tree?  And  are  tin- 
sel and  tapers  the  fruit  of  a  Christmas  tree?" 
asked  the  balsam-fir ;  but  little  Emily  only  in- 
haled her  fragrant  breath. 

''Now  I  know  how  Christmas  trees  look  be- 
fore they  come  to  the  city,"  Emily  continued. 
"They  are  all  steeped  in  sunshine  and  full  of 
the  sweet,  smelly  breath  of  the  woods,  and  I 
think  that  is  how  they  are  able  to  make  us  so 
happy — more  happy  even  than  the  beautiful 
gifts  on  their  branches  make  us." 

"  'Gifts?'  "  repeated  the  balsam-fir.  "Are 
gifts  the  fruit  of  a  Christmas  tree?" 

While  Cho-koh-tung  was  wondering  what 
kind  of  a  tree  a  Christmas  tree  was.  Alec  came 
shouting  around  the  pine  tree.  ' '  Here  is  a  real 
Christmas  tree.  See,  Sister,  it  has  green 
candles  all  over  it." 

Emily  looked  at  the  soft  new  tips  of  the  pine 
tree,  erect  like  tapers. 

"Yes,   this  must  be  one,  too,"  she  said. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE        147 

**  What  a  gay  little  place !  All  the  pretty  ever- 
green trees  keep  Christmas  here  together, 
though  some  of  the  child-trees  come  to  town  to 
make  us  glad  at  Christmas  time." 

^^Dear  one,  would  it  make  you  glad  should  I 
leave  my  forest  home  and  come  to  you  at 
Christmas  time  ? ' '  asked  Cho-koh-tung.  ' '  Yet 
tell  me,  what  is  Christmas  time?" 

Did  Emily  understand  ?  For  she  smiled  and 
said,  *' Christmas  time  means  happy  time,  and 
the  giving  of  gifts!" 

And  then  the  merry  band  of  children  went 
laughing  into  the  forest. 

*'They  talked  of  what  they  would  do  when 
they  grew  up,"  said  the  pine  tree.  *'As  for 
myself,  I  expect  to  be  changed  into  something 
useful  to  Man." 

*^As  the  simshine  blesses  us  now,"  said  Cho- 
koh-tung,  *^so  a  way  will  come  whereby  we  in 
turn  may  bless  with  the  sunbeams  stored  away, 
transformed  into  the  sunlight  of  joy.  I  hope 
it  may  be  my  mission  to  be  something  that 
children  love.  That  will  be  better  than  living 
my  own  life  in  the  forest." 


148  FOREST  FANCIES 

**A  child  loves  her  little  chair,"  said  the  pine 
tree,  **yet  never  thinks  of  the  oak  that  took  a 
century  to  grow  the  wood. ' ' 

*^If  I  could  make  children  glad,"  re- 
plied Cho-koh-tung,  ^Hhat  would  be  my  re- 
ward." 

**Then  be  happy,"  whispered  the  sunshine, 
"for  the  children  who  come  to  the  forest  see 
you  and  rejoice  in  your  beauty." 

The  little  balsam-fir  looked  up  gladly  to  the 
caress  of  the  sunlight.  "I  am  happy,  but  the 
habit  of  playing  at  being  grown  up  leads  me 
to  plan  for  the  time  when  youth  is  gone  and 
the  beauty  of  youth." 

**  *  Rejoice  in  the  days  of  thy  youth!'  "  re- 
peated the  sunshine. 

So  Cho-kuh-tung  ceased  thinking  of  the  fu- 
ture and  was  happy  in  each  passing  hour,  try- 
ing to  grow  cones  upon  her  branches  like  the 
tall  young  balsam-fir  near  by. 

"Christmas  time  means  happy  time,  and  the 
giving  of  gifts,"  she  mused;  "I  wonder  if  I 
can  grow  pretty  cones  to  give  to  Emily  when 
she  returns." 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         149 

**Have  you  nothing  else  to  give?"  asked  the 
sunshine. 

The  little  balsam-fir  did  not  reply ;  she  was 
thinking,  how  sweet  were  sunlight  and  wind 
and  forest  odors,  grass  and  moss  and  flowers, 
bird  and  bee  and  butterfly;  how  sweet  to  live! 

One  day  in  December  men  entered  the  nur- 
sery-room with  axes  in  their  hands. 

As  they  were  passing,  Cho-koh-tung  called, 
'^Takemel'' 

"Are  you  anxious  to  leave  us?"  asked  the 
spruce  tree.  "Your  life  has  just  begun.  Life 
is  sweet  I" 

"Already  I  am  crowding  my  little  sister  on 
the  other  side,"  answered  Cho-koh-tung.  "Be- 
sides, it  is  the  child-trees  that  go  to  town  at 
Christmas  time." 

"Cho-koh-tung  is  going  to  town!"  whis- 
pered the  trees  excitedly. 

"Will  you  bring  me  something  from  town?" 
cried  her  little  sister  eagerly. 

"When  you  come  back,"  asked  the  cedar 
tree,  "will  you  tell  us  all  about  the  wonderful 
things  you  have  seen?" 


150  FOREST  FANCIES 

Cho-koh-tung  smiled  a  little,  knowing  she 
would  never  return. 

Then  the  men  cut  down  the  balsam-fir, 
wrapped  her  ruffled  skirts  with  twine,  and 
bound  her  with  several  other  evergreen  trees 
of  her  own  height  that  they  had  taken  from 
the  forest.  These  were  piled  on  a  hay-rack  and 
hauled  away  and  loaded  upon  a  platform  car. 
After  a  swift,  astonishing  ride,  they  found 
themselves  in  a  place  where  there  were  hard 
pavements  instead  of  grass  and  moss,  and  tall 
buildings  instead  of  trees. 

The  sounds  of  the  city  frightened  the  little 
trees.  They  clung  close  together  and  whis- 
pered of  home,  until  one  by  one  they  were 
taken  away. 

At  last  it  was  Cho-koh-tung 's  turn.  She  was 
hoisted  into  a  wagon  and  driven  to  a  brick 
house  and  set  up  in  a  tub  in  a  darkened  room. 

'^Will  it  always  be  night?"  she  asked,  but 
no  one  made  reply. 

She  now  observed  upon  the  walls  festoons  of 
hemlock  and  holly  wreaths,  though  these  re- 
minders of  the  forest  only  made  her  more 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         151 

homesick.  She  began  to  talk  to  the  chairs, 
which  seemed  quite  at  ease,  and  asked  them 
why  she  was  kept  a  prisoner. 

**Wait  and  see,"  answered  the  armchair. 

So  the  little  balsam-fir  was  patient. 

By-and-by,  when  it  really  was  night,  two 
people  entered  the  room,  and  the  man  lit  three 
great  stars  hanging  from  the  ceiling.  Cho- 
koh-tung  could  now  see  that  the  trees  which 
had  been  made  into  furniture  looked  very  com- 
fortable and  at  home. 

**I  hope  that  I,  too,  may  become  part  of  this 
pleasant  home, ' '  she  thought  wistfully.  ' '  Per- 
haps after  awhile  they  will  let  the  children 
come  to  me,  when  I  will  tell  them  stories  of  the 
forest.  I  may  have  a  long  and  happy  life 
here." 

She  stood  like  a  statue  in  her  tub,  very  much 
interested  in  what  the  people  were  doing. 
They  brought  in  boxes  and  baskets  and  a  step- 
ladder,  and  the  man  fastened  a  great  gold  star 
to  her  topmost  branch. 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  said  the  little  balsam-fir.  ' '  I 
am  sure  it  looks  very  pretty.    How  I  wish  the 


152  FOREST  FANCIES 

children  could  see  me  now!  I  wonder,  oh,  I 
wonder — yes,  the  wish  that  led  me  from  my 
forest  home  is  to  be  realized:  I  am  to  be  a 
Christmas  tree!'' 

She  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  thought  that  the 
star  trembled.  ^*  There  must  be  a  draft  in  the 
room,''  said  the  mother. 

Cho-koh-tung  rejoiced  in  the  silver  paper 
icicles,  the  glittering  balls,  the  festoons  of  tin- 
sel, the  tapers,  the  dancing  dolls,  and  the  dolls 
with  gilded  wings  that  fluttered  to  her 
branches.  In  the  tub  at  her  feet  they  put  green 
moss  and  a  whole  barnyard  of  wooden  animals, 
and  all  around  were  placed  the  blessed  toys. 

*^The  children  will  gather  around  me  to  re- 
ceive their  gifts,"  she  thought;  ^^yet  sweetest 
of  all,  I  shall  give  them  myself!" 

The  mother  and  father  stood  off  and  sur- 
veyed the  tree,  smiled  at  each  other,  glanced 
upward  where  four  cherubs  were  sleeping, 
turned  out  the  stars  that  hung  from  the  ceil- 
ing, and  tiptoed  from  the  room. 

But,  so  great  was  her  anticipation,  the  little 
balsam-fir  could  not  sleep.    With  all  her  gay 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         153 

festooning,  she  wished  to  dance,  as  when  she 
used  to  toss  her  ruffled  skirts  on  windy  days 
and  show  their  silvery  lining. 

**You  better  stand  still,  little  balsam,  and 
be  philosophical,  like  Diogenes  of  old,"  warned 
the  painted  tub. 

^^Who  was  Diogenes?"  asked  the  balsam- 
fir. 

^*0h,  he  was  like  you,  and  lived  in  a  tub," 
laughed  the  book  under  the  tree.  '*I  know  all 
about  such  people.  Then  there  were  three  men 
in  a  tub.  But  before  we  proceed  further,  I 
move  we  have  a  little  light  on  the  subject." 

^^Dear  me,  I  cannot  find  my  match!"  cried 
a  taper. 

^^No,  I  have  struck,"  declared  a  pine  match 
quite  black  in  the  face,  so  the  window  shades 
rolled  up  and  let  in  the  light  from  the  street- 
lamp. 

* '  Tub, ' '  asked  the  balsam-fir,  * '  where  did  you 
live  before  you  came  here?" 

'*In  a  store,"  promptly  replied  the  tub. 

''Yes,  but  before  that?" 

*'I  was  a  cypress  tree  and  grew  in  the 


154  FOREST  FANCIES 

water,"  answered  the  tub,  '^and  I  think  that  is 
how  I  came  to  be  a  tub." 

*'I  sailed  right  out  of  a  poplar  tree,"  said 
the  toy  ship. 

**And  I  was  made  in  America!"  shouted  a 
wooden  soldier.   *  *  Forward,  right,  march ! ' ' 

**Look  out,  or  I'll  run  over  you!"  cried  the 
little  express- wagon.  **I'm  Old  Hickory,  you 
know.    Miss  Dolly,  won't  you  take  a  drive?" 

'  *  Thank  you,  but  I  prefer  to  ride  my  hobby, ' ' 
replied  the  doll,  mounting  the  maple  hobby- 
horse.   **A  little  exercise  will  do  me  good." 

**You  needn't  put  on  such  airs  because  you 
are  bisque  and  kid,"  remarked  the  black  wal- 
nut writing-box. 

** Sawdust!"  laughed  the  set  of  tools  with 
hornbeam  handles. 

**Yes,  I  saw  dust,"  added  the  saw,  as  the 
hobby  went  prancing  by. 

'* Cedar  pun?"  yelled  the  pencil. 

** Order!"  rapped  the  hammer. 

**I  am  always  in  order,"  declared  the  desk. 
*^ My  home,"  it  continued,  reminiscently,  '^was 
in  Hhe  spreading  chestnut  tree.'  " 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         155 

**And  I,"  said  a  work-basket,  ''was  the 
withes  of  a  willow." 

''We  were  part  of  a  pretty  birch  tree/'  ex- 
plained the  spools  in  the  basket. 

"Whoever  would  dream  that  I  was  once  a 
spruce  tree  ? ' '  inquired  the  book.  ' '  Little  bal- 
sam, of  all  my  forest  friends,  you  alone  remain 
unchanged.'' 

"Our  good  old  forest  days  are  over,"  replied 
Cho-koh-tung,  "but  new  service  has  begun— 
to  gladden  the  hearts  of  children.  Little  will 
the  children  know  of  the  tree-lives  given  up 
for  their  sake,  yet  a  sacrifice  is  not  a  sacrifice 
that  brings  a  greater  j  oy. " 

"Love  should  inspire  service,"  responded 
the  book,  "and  service  be  the  keynote  of  ac- 
tion." 

"So,  one  and  all,  we  rejoice  in  this  end," 
said  Cho-koh-tung. 

"And  our  aim  shall  be  to  give  all  the  joy  that 
we  can,"  exclaimed  the  pop-gun. 

"I  move  we  pass  a  resolution  to  that  effect," 
said  the  express-wagon. 

'Pon't  'put  the  cart  before  the  horse,' " 


(( 


156  FOREST  FANCIES 

grumbled  the  hobby.    **I  think  I  should  have 
made  the  motion." 

**Miss  Dolly,"  continued  the  express-wagon, 
quite  unmoved,  ^'please  hop  upon  the  desk  and 
lead  the  meeting." 

*'I  should  be  chairman,"  murmured  a  small 
rocking-chair.  ^^Dear  me,  your  tongue  can't 
stop  waggin'." 

^^Any  more  than  you  can  keep  quiet,"  re- 
torted the  little  express. 

*' Shall  I  keep  the  minutes  of  the  meeting?" 
asked  the  Waterbury  watch. 

^^No,  the  pencil  will  do  that,"  replied  the 
doll,  *'^but  you  may  second  the  motion." 

*'I  rise  to  a  point  of  order!"  cried  a  tack 
in  the  tool-chest. 

**The  tack  has  the  floor,"  called  the  doll. 

**I  move  that  the  wooden  soldier  keep  away 
from  the  toy  ship,"  said  the  tack,  ^"^or  it  may 
be  taken  for  a  Noah's  ark." 

''  ^That  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all,'  " 
said  the  hatchet  sharply. 

*'I  should  say  so,"  sighed  a  spool. 
I  thought  I  would  join  the  ne^Yy^^^  replied 


a 


CHRISTMAS    IN    THE   WOODS 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         157 

the  wooden  soldier  stiffly,  *'for  where  there  is 
a  tub,  there  must  be  water." 

''1  fear  you  would  run  aground  in  me,"  said 
the  tub. 

*'That  was  a  dry  remark,"  observed  the 
book. 

*'We  have  forgotten  our  good  resolution," 
said  the  doll. 

''All  in  favor  of  it  say  'Aye,'  "  called  a 
needle  in  the  work-basket. 

"And  all  opposed  say  'Nay,'  "  whinnied  the 
hobby-horse. 

"I  appoint  the  wooden  soldier  sergeant-at- 
arms  to  keep  order,"  said  the  doll.  "You  must 
stop  your  cutting  up." 

"I'm  not,"  snapped  the  scissors. 

*'I  hear  them  talking  upstairs,"  warned  the 
wooden  soldier,  sentried  by  the  door,  "and 
Father  is  coming  downstairs  to  put  the  cat 
out." 

"Hurry  back  to  your  places!"  cried  the 
doll;  while  the  wooden  soldier  hastily  pre- 
sented arms  to  help  her  off  the  desk. 

What  a  whisking  and  scurrying  there  was. 


158  FOREST  FANCIES 

to  be  sure,  though  all  that  Father  found  was  a 
demure  little  Christmas  tree  and  some  very  se- 
date and  innocent-looking  toys.  But  Cho-koh- 
tung  smiled  as  she  drooped  her  green  boughs 
over  the  truant  toys  at  her  feet,  the  loving 
sharers  in  her  joy  of  giving,  which  makes  the 
joy  of  living. 

She  could  hardly  wait  for  the  morrow,  but 
Christmas  really  came  at  last.  Then  four  chil- 
dren, almost  before  the  dawn,  flew  pell-mell 
down  the  stairs  and  rushed  upon  the  Christ- 
mas tree — one,  two,  three  boys  and  a  girl — 
little  Emily  and  her  brothers  I 

**  Are  you  not  glad  that  I  came  to  you  ?"  Cho- 
koh-tung  eagerly  asked  of  little  Emily. 

But  Emily  only  laughed  as  she  danced 
around  the  tree. 

Again  Cho-koh-tung  asked  wistfully,  ''Are 
you  not  glad  that  I  came  to  town  at  Christmas 
time?" 

But  Emily  only  smiled  as  she  held  her  doll 
close. 

Then  Cho-koh-tung  would  have  shaken  her 
ornaments  until  they  tinkled  and  glittered  for 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         159 

the  children's  delight;  but  no,  it  was  the  gifts 
that  made  them  gay.  And  so  Cho-koh-tung 
could  not  but  be  happy,  too,  though  she  longed 
to  be  even  more  beautiful  than  she  was. 

And  when  evening  came,  and  the  family 
was  gathered  around  the  long,  bright  table. 
Father  slipped  into  the  parlor  and  flashed  light 
after  light  from  the  colored  tapers  over  the 
tree.  There  she  stood,  a  blaze  of  splendor, 
blinking  as  she  used  to  blink  when  the  sun- 
light sparkled  on  her  snow-laden  boughs.  Yes, 
Cho-koh-tui]fg  used  to  wear  a  mantle  of  snow- 
ermine  and  a  crown  of  ice-diamonds  and  stand 
like  a  princess  on  an  alabaster  floor ;  yet  still 
was  she  a  beautiful  princess  of  the  forest, 
wearing  her  green  velvet  gown,  and  come  to 
town  at  Christmas  time  to  make  the  children 
glad  I  Father  drew  up  the  shades  that  pass- 
ersby  might  see  her  beauty,  and  then  rolled 
back  the  sliding-doors. 

**Are  you  not  glad  that  I  gave  up  cones  for 
Christmas  candles?"  she  asked,  as  little  Emily 
clapped  her  hands  for  joy ;  and  Emily  laughed, 
not  that  she  heard  what  the  balsam  was  saying, 


160  FOREST  FANCIES 

but  was  not  this  the  prettiest  Christmas  tree  in 

all  the  world! 

■ 

Then  the  balsam-fir  longed  to  cast  off  her 
glittering  garment  and  make  herself  known; 
yet  after  all,  it  was  the  tinsel  robe  and  taper 
crown  that  gave  the  children  joy. 

**Why  does  the  tree  wear  a  star?"  asked 
Archie  of  his  father. 

Then  Father  told  why  the  tree  wore  a  star, 
in  the  story  of  the  Christ-child,  Who  left  His 
heavenly  home  to  make  us  good  and  glad,  be- 
cause *^God  so  loved  the  world." 

**  And  now  who  will  tell  what  is  the  real  fruit 
of  a  Christmas  tree?"  he  asked. 

*  ^  The  golden  star, ' '  said  Emily,  softly. 

^^Gifts,"  shouted  the  boys,  ^^giftsl" 

But  Father  shook  his  head. 

Merrily  passed  the  holiday  week.  Children 
from  blocks  around  came  in  to  see  the  pretty 
Christmas  tree,  and  poor  children  were 
brought  in  to  share  the  gifts.  By  New  Year's 
night  the  candles  were  burned  to  their  sockets : 
Cho-koh-tung's  task  was  done. 

That  New  Year's  night,  when  the  house  was 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         161 

very  still,  and  for  the  last  time  Cho-koh-tung 
stood  in  her  gay  trappings,  a  little  one  in  white 
stole  softly  down  the  stairs,  and  Emily,  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp  without,  came  swiftly  to  the 
tree. 

**I  have  been  dreaming,"  she  said,  "and  I 
dreamed  of  a  beautiful  evergreen  tree  that  I 
found  last  summer  in  the  forest. '  ^ 

The  balsam-fir  leaned  closer.  *'0  little 
Emily,"  she  asked,  "has  my  Christmas  dress 
so  changed  me?" 

Then  Emily  reached  up  and  gathered  the 
glittering  boughs  into  her  arms.  "I  am  so 
glad,  so  glad!"  she  laughed.  "Beautiful  lit- 
tle fir  tree,  why  did  you  come  to  me?" 

"Who  told  me  that  Christmas  time  means 
happy  time,  and  the  giving  of  gifts?" 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"And  I  thought,  I  have  nothing  to  give. 
Did  you  think  fir  cones  were  pretty?  Yet  no, 
you  would  not  have  cared  for  them.  Do  they 
look  like  candles  on  a  Christmas  tree?  Then 
the  thought  came — I  tossed  aside  the  dream  of 
years  of  life,  and  having  nothing  else  to  give, 


162  FOREST  FANCIES 


I  gave  myself :  for  the  real  fruit  of  a  Christmas 
tree  is  what  lies  back  of  gifts  and  giving." 

**I  know,  I  know,"  cried  Emily,  as  the  bal- 
sam-fir seemed  to  stoop  and  enfold  her,  *Hhe 
real  fruit  of  a  Christmas  tree  is  love  I" 

''And  to  love  is  to  give." 

Someone  had  missed  Emily  and  was  calling 
her. 

'^Good-night,  little  Christmas  tree!"  she 
said,  lifting  her  sweet  face  once  more  to  the 
glad  touch  of  the  evergreen  bough. 

"To-morrow  she  will  think  it  all  a  dream," 
thought  Cho-koh-tung,  watching  Emily  pass 
through  the  dim  light  and  up  the  dark 
stairs. 

Then  the  Christmas  tree,  feeling  no  more 
the  weight  of  her  decorations,  lovingly 
drooped  her  head,  drooped  it  a  little  lower 
over  her  gay  burden  of  children's  joys.  They 
seemed  to  be  falling  from  her,  even  as  her  win- 
ter burden  of  snow  used  to  vanish  in  the  sun- 
light.   Was  she  sleeping? 

"Sleej),  little  tree,  sleep!"  sang  the  wind 
without. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE         163 

*^  Will  you  wake  me  when  morning  comes  ?" 
she  asked. 

*^ Sleep,  little  tree,  sleep!"  said  the  wind 
soothingly. 

** Sleep  I"  sang  the  drowsy  snow. 

''Nay,  you  will  not  wake  me,  and  so  I  will 
not  sleep,"  said  the  Christmas  tree,  cheerfully 
holding  up  her  ornaments. 

'^ Sleep,  sleep!"  everything  seemed  to  whis- 
per. 

And  so  at  last  she  fell  peacefully  asleep, 
dreaming  that  happy  children  were  circling 
around  her,  clasping  their  Christmas  gifts,  yet 
loving  her  best  of  all ;  and  still  she  seemed  to  be 
sleeping,  in  the  morning  light,  when  the  little 
boys  came  to  her  for  a  last  look  on  their  way 
to  school ;  and  still  she  slept  as  Emily  touched 
her  lightly  at  parting. 

**Last  night  I  dreamed  the  prettiest  dream 
of  you  and  me, ' '  laughed  Emily  gaily. 

But  the  Christmas  tree  did  not  hear. 

An  hour  later.  Mother  and  the  maid  took  off 
the  festive  decorations  and  laid  them  away  for 
another  year  and  another  tree. 


164  FOREST  FANCIES 


Ci\ 


This  is  the  happiest  Christmas  that  we 
have  ever  had,"  said  the  mother. 

**The  children  were  never  so  glad,"  an- 
swered the  maid. 

**I  think,"  said  the  mother,  smiling,  'Hhat 
the  little  fir  tree  brought  to  us  the  real  spirit 
of  Christmas." 


